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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25333696">Blue is your color</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InDreams_01/pseuds/InDreams_01'>InDreams_01</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Brad's emotional learning [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oblivious, Slow Build</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:02:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25333696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InDreams_01/pseuds/InDreams_01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian hires a new assistant and Brad is intrigued. They begin an unlikely friendship but is it more than just that?</p><p>Brad being oblivious and emotionally stunted and doesn't understand his own feelings or other people's actions.</p><p>Possible porn with plot later in the story, if continued.<br/>Potential long story. Not sure how many chapters there will be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brad Bakshi/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Brad's emotional learning [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The new assistant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The first chapter is a little slow, just sort of introducing the original character. I tried to stick to Brad's character as best as I could but I thought it would be fun to include his point of view. Somethings may be a little different but hopefully it's as close as possible - to my interpretation anyway.<br/>I just became obsessed with Danny Pudi in all senses of the word and I thought Brad was such an interesting character to explore. I see him as someone who likes to control things but doesn't really understand his own feelings.<br/>Sorry for the long winded intro!!<br/>See below for more notes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I check my watch. </p><p>8:59:01am. </p><p>Perfect. I press the button for the elevator. It takes about 3 minutes to get from the ground floor up to the office and across to the conference room on the far side. 3 minutes and 4 seconds to be exact. I’ve timed it to perfection. It allows me to arrive at the 9am meeting at exactly 9:02. I show up close enough to 9am that it’s technically not “late” late, but late enough that everyone else is already there, waiting on me. It shows that I’m serious about my job while also showing them that I don’t give a shit if I’m running late and keeping others behind. I do it every single morning. </p><p>The elevator doors slide open and I step inside to the middle of the floor. I spin on the heel of my left sneaker and jab at the 6th floor button. And I’m going up. As the lift reaches its destination, I smooth down the front my maroon cashmere sweater and once the doors open I slope my way to the conference room. I slip my left hand into my pocket as I approach the door and I easily push it open, entering without looking at anyone. I step over to my usual chair – third from the front on the right hand side – and sit down, adjusting my charcoal grey plaid pants as I do. I set my right ankle on my left knee and smooth out the cuff. I finally look up and survey the people around me as if I’d only noticed they were there. To my left sits Ian’s new assistant, followed by Ian at the front. Poppy sits opposite Ian followed by Jo then by David.</p><p>“Late as usual Brad. Thank you for joining us,” David says in a tone meant to be terser than it is.</p><p>“You’re very welcome,” I return with a nod. </p><p>David huffs and waves his hands in the air.</p><p>“Can we get started with the meeting now?” he asks shrilly. His hair is slightly unkempt as though he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly in stress. I can’t help but smirk. He’s always stressed about something, and usually nothing that interests me. </p><p>“Ian would you like some coffee?” the girl beside me asks, as though she didn’t hear David speak.</p><p>Ian hired a new assistant two weeks ago. Jo was furious, as was expected, raging around the office, cussing out the new girl any chance she got, who always seemed to take it in her stride.</p><p>“Yes, yes. That’s a great idea. Some coffee,” Ian agrees.</p><p>“Poppy?” the girl asks, her eyes now focused across the table.</p><p>“Aww yea. That would be lovely,” Poppy says with a small smile and soft eyes, as though happy to even be asked.</p><p>“Brad?” she asks as she swivels her chair to face me. She fixes her gaze on me, staring almost too intently for the question being asked. Her eyes aren’t particularly interesting – hazel - but there’s an ease around them and slight arch in her eyebrow. </p><p>“Yea. Please,” I reply, keeping my eyes on hers. </p><p>“Double shot, cream, no sugar,” she confirms. How does she know my coffee order? I don’t think I’ve ever talked to the girl, aside from the brief introduction on her first day.</p><p>“That’s right.” </p><p>She gives me small but genuine, almost cheeky smile, as though it is the beginning of a joke, a joke that I share. I can’t help but let my lip curl up slightly in response. She holds my gaze a fraction longer than necessary, then spins in her chair and gets to her feet.</p><p>“Umm, ahh.. I’d like a coffee too,” David says, giving a small wave, letting us all know he was still here.</p><p>“You’ve got an assistant David. Get her to make you some coffee,” the girl deadpans, “That’s what you pay her for, right?” </p><p>I chuckle. I always love when people emasculate David. Ian and Poppy let out a laugh too. David, on the other hand, lets out an undignified breath. </p><p>“Bitch, you don’t tell me what to do,” Jo hisses.</p><p>“No. David does. Or at least he tries,” the girl says, getting another laugh from us all.</p><p>“You stole Ian from me you greedy whore,” Jo snarls, slamming both palms on the desk. I jump and my seat scoots back an inch, my eyebrows flying up.</p><p>“I didn’t steal Ian from you,” the girl says with a shake of her head, then pierces Jo with a look, “I didn’t steal Ian from you because he was never yours in the first place.”</p><p>“Eat shit you bitch,” Jo leaps to her feat pointing furiously at the new assistant. There’s a clamour of “Whoa!”s and “Hey!”s. David looks as though he was about to faint, his eyes darting wildly between the two warring assistants, “You better watch your back. I’m going to poison your coffee!”</p><p>“And what makes you think I haven’t already come up with that idea for you?” the girl retorts.</p><p>“Umm you can’t. I don’t drink coffee made in this building. It tastes like piss,” Jo points out, crossing her arms haughtily.</p><p>“I know you don’t. You get it from the coffee shop two blocks from here. The coffee pot, right?” the new girl asks. From Jo’s silence I assume that this is true, “You see, the thing is, I know a guy who works there - Jason. He served you this morning. And Jason will do anything for me. Anything. Even slipping a little rat poison into your coffee,” she pauses a beat. She places her hands on the table, fingers spread, leaning in, “Have you started feeling dizzy yet? Tight chest? Fingers beginning to feel just a little. Bit. Numb?”</p><p>Jo gapes at her with an expression of mixed horror and outrage. Jo tears her way out of the office, covering her mouth and making retching noises. The other girl slowly stands up straight, then gives a quick chipper grin, “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”</p><p>I stare at her as she walks out, a skip in her step. My wide eyes follow her long after she disappears around the corner to the kitchen.</p><p>“Jesus Christ. Both of your assistants are psychotic,” Poppy says. David has his hands in his hair again.</p><p>“You’re right,” Ian nods, “But I love her energy! And you know, their insane personalities will cancel each other out.”</p><p>“Cancel each other out? No. No they won’t! We just have twice the amount of psychotic. Three times if you count Brad,” David squawks. </p><p>“I’m not psychotic. I’m sociopathic,” I correct him with a causal flick of my hand. That's a term I've come to use as it's thrown around all the time in relation to me.</p><p>“Nah, nah it’s fine. She’s really great. It’s all good,” Ian says waving a dismissive hand as he starts flipping through some papers in front of him. David huffs again.</p><p>“Who is that?” I ask Ian, swinging around in my chair, ignoring David’s huffing and muttering about not being able to start the meeting as there are no assistants to type up the notes.</p><p>“Oh, that’s my new assistant,” he replies, not looking up. </p><p>I roll my eyes, “I know that. But what’s her name? And why am I only discovering how fucking awesome she is.”</p><p>“Awesome?” David wheezes.</p><p>“Yea, she psyched out Jo. That’s pretty awesome,” I say with a cursory glance at him before turning back to Ian, “Who is she?”</p><p>“Her name is Sara,” Poppy interjects, “And she’s seemed really lovely this whole time. I’ve never heard her talk like that. It is kind of awesome though.”</p><p>All of us but David nod in agreement. </p><p>“Can we please just start the meeting now?” David sighs heavily. </p><p>They start bickering about how we can’t start the meeting without any assistants to take minutes, and I agree just to keep postponing the meeting. Minutes, no minutes. I don’t give a shit. I just love to piss off David. </p><p>About 5 minutes later, the new assistant – Sara- returns with a tray with five cups of coffee. She passes them out, naming each order as she does. She sets a blue coffee cup down in front of me and her eyes meet mine.</p><p>"Blue is your color," she says with a smile.</p><p>"Thanks." I watch her with my eyes wide and a bemused open-mouthed smile. She has suddenly landed on my radar. </p><p>She reaches over and places David's 'before coffee' cup in front of him, “I assumed Jo wouldn’t be bringing you anything.”</p><p>“Tha… thank you. There’s no… poison in it, right?”</p><p>“Oh! No. Definitely not,” Sara says with a quick shake of her head as if it’s preposterous. She glances round at me with a grin. I smirk back.</p><p>“You didn’t actually poison Jo did you?” Poppy asks.</p><p>“Nah. We both go to the same coffee shop in the mornings and she never notices me. Jason was the guy who served both of us this morning. I have no idea who he is.”</p><p>We all laugh again, except David who slumps onto the desk.</p><p>“Can we please… please… start the meeting now?” </p><p>“Sure. I’m ready to take the minutes,” Sara says with an encouraging smile at David.</p><p>“Thank you, Sara,” he sighs, “Let’s get started.”</p><p>For the rest of the meeting, Sara sits quietly, typing away quickly on her keyboard, hardly ever looking up. I settle back in my chair and sit perpendicular to the table. My right elbow is propped on the table and my index finger rests on my upper lip. I can’t help but gaze at Sara as she types, occasionally zoning out of the conversation. She never looks my way. She has piqued my interest. Jo exudes chaotic, psychotic energy, but Sara, she appears calm and cool. Calculating? Not quite. I don’t get the negative, sinister connotation that comes with that word. And that eye contact was… intriguing. I want to know more about her. </p><p>David calls the meeting adjourned even though Ian and Poppy and Sara are already leaving but I hang back. My eyes follow Sara to her desk which is situated right in front, and below, Ian’s office. She sits down and grabs the computer screen’s HDMI cable to plug into her laptop as Ian and Poppy walk away, bickering as usual.<br/>
I get to my feet and stride out of the conference room. As I’m walking towards the new assistant’s desk, I notice that I’ve set my shoulders with my chest out. What the fuck? I ease into a more casual walk and come to a stop beside her desk. She looks up at me, her eyebrows slightly raised.</p><p>“Hi,” she says.</p><p>“Hi. I’m Brad,” I reply as I extend my hand for her to shake. A smile plays on her lips as she nods and she accepts my outstretched hand. Her skin is soft but her grip is firm. I also notice just how small her hand is in mine. Again, she holds on to both my hand and my gaze just slightly longer than usual.</p><p>“I know. I’ve worked here two weeks. I’ve seen you around the office.” </p><p>“Sure, sure,” I nod. I sit down on the clear edge of her desk, one leg dangling casually the other pressed firmly into the ground to keep my balance, “That thing with Jo earlier was… savage.”</p><p>She snorts in laughter, adorably if I can say so, and turns back to her computer. </p><p>“You really psyched her out. That’s impressive,” I continue.</p><p>“Thanks,” she says, another one of those grins on her face, “It was easier than I expected it to be.”</p><p>“Huh! You do need to watch your back though. I have no doubt that she will not hesitate to end you.”</p><p>“Nah I’m not worried,” she tells me with a shake of her head.</p><p>“You’re not?” I ask eyebrows raised.</p><p>“She’ll come around.”</p><p>“So… you mean you don’t hate her?” I question, a little confused.</p><p>“Oh! No, not at all! She’s pretty cool,” Sara says. </p><p>“So, what was that all about earlier?” I gesture to the conference room behind me.</p><p>“I like Jo. I think we’ll be good friends even if it takes some time for her warm up to me. I want her to like me and with girls like Jo, that’s the way to do it. You know, strength recognises strength. Game recognises game. She’ll come around. I’ve got her figured out”</p><p>“Huh!” I exclaim again, impressed, “So are you doing this with everyone in the office?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“And they all tick differently?”</p><p>“Oh yea.”</p><p>“So what about Ian?” I question, truly intrigued and amused.</p><p>“Easy. I just agree with everything he says and tell him he’s great at least 12 times a day. I’ve figured out that’s about the ideal number of times.”</p><p>“And for David..?”</p><p>“David’s a little bit trickier. I think he’s got some sort of humiliation, degradation kink or something-” I snort, “- so you kind have to be a little mean to him, but then also have to give him some encouragement every now and again. To keep him motivated, you know.”</p><p>“That’s actually… very accurate,” I agree. I have noticed he works at maximum efficiency this way. I’ve been using it to my advantage for years. I grin at her. Wow. I thought this girl was psychotic but now I know she’s a genius.</p><p>“Poppy?”</p><p>“Be encouraging and listen to her and tell her that her ideas are great and that you understand the subtle nuances in her plans. Surprisingly similar to Ian but not quite as intense.”</p><p>I wrack my brain for another example, “Ah, what about the testers?” I point to their little booth at the end of the office.</p><p>“Easy again. Literally just be nerdy about video games and hang with them a bit. That’s easy enough for me because I do really enjoy gaming. I don’t get to do it nearly as much as I’d like so playing with them for a bit is fun,” she says.</p><p>“You’re a gamer?” I ask. </p><p>I would never have pegged her for a gamer. Although she’s not classically gorgeous, she’s still quite pretty, prettier than the average stereotype for a girl gamer, although I guess these days anyone can be a gamer and you wouldn’t know. Her slim, pale face is framed by dark chocolate brown hair that falls just above her elbow. Deep set, easy hazel eyes that always seem to have a glint of humour and small yet full passionfruit pink lips that have been altered by lipstick. I glance down at her body, a slim, petite figure with a surprisingly large set of breasts. </p><p>“Yea I am,” she says with a humorous lilt in her voice, “Does that surprise you?”</p><p>“A little,” I admit, “But I guess you are working for a video game company.”</p><p>“True,” she nods, “Do you game at all?”</p><p>“Yea, sometimes,” I tell her, “But like you said, not as much as I’d like or as much as I used to.”</p><p>“Cool. What’s your favourite game?” she asks.</p><p>“I like Tom Clancy H.A.W.X.S.”</p><p>“Awesome! I love fighter pilot games,” she says brightly, “They’re some of my favourite to play.”</p><p>“Yea me too,” I agree grinning, “So, what about me?”</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“Have you got me figured out yet? How do I tick?”</p><p>Sara cocks her eyebrow at me, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”</p><p>“Yea I very much would,” I say with a laugh.</p><p>“Sorry, that information is classified,” she says turning back to her laptop.</p><p>“Fine. Fine. I get it. You don’t want to give out all your secrets,” I raise my hands in the air to placate her, “What’s your end game? What do you want to gain from all of this?”</p><p>“Honestly?” She begins and I give her a nod to continue, “I like to be liked.”</p><p>I scoff, “You can’t be serious?”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“But you hope fostering these relationships will help you move up?” I ask.</p><p>“Well, yea sure. It seems kind of obvious that it would make it easier to progress through the company if people liked me. I don’t want to end up with Sue down in the basement.” She wrinkles her nose in displeasure.</p><p>“Oh shit. Sue. Yea. Any tactics for her?”</p><p>“Just visit her every few days or so and bring her a muffin or a scone or something,” she informs me.</p><p>“But what do you get from Sue? She can’t do anything for you. Or even the testers for that matter,” I point out.</p><p>“Sue’s just very sweet. And she’s down there on her own all the time. She appreciates the company. The testers are sweet too. I don’t always need something from people. I just like them.”</p><p>“That sounds like bullshit to me. You know, you were gaining all these respect points from me up until then. You’ve lost a few now though,” I tease.</p><p>“Ha! I’m sure. I know it’s not your style, but it works for me. I have a bit of a soft heart, I do admit.”</p><p>“You know you’ll never get anything out of Ian though. He doesn’t listen to anyone,” I tell her.</p><p>“You lick up someone’s hole for long enough your tongue is bound to end up in a place where your words can come out of their mouth,” she says with a shrug and I laugh out loud.</p><p>“I like that. That’s good,” I say shaking a finger at her, “You’ve really got it all figured out don’t you?”</p><p>“Yep,” she says with a confident shit eating grin. As we’re smiling at each other, her eyes dart over my shoulder, “You’ve got a bogie on your six.”</p><p>I glance behind me and see David pacing towards us. I roll my eyes at her, “Literally.”</p><p>“Ha!” she snorts again and I smile involuntarily.</p><p>“Brad, we need you,” David says, his voice tense, eyes wild.</p><p>“Coming now David,” I say, feeling as though he might have had enough pushback for one day. Well, one morning maybe. I’ll see later this afternoon.<br/>
David speeds off and I turn back to Sara, whose eyebrow is arched again and ghost of a smile on her lips.</p><p>“Well, I better get going,” I say getting to my feet and she nods, “I enjoyed our talk, doll.”</p><p>“Me too,” she says. Was her voice slightly softer? I can’t tell.</p><p>I tap my fingers lightly on her desk, give her one last look, then walk away, following where David went. I find myself rubbing my palms together slowly and absently with a smile on my face. Sara was interesting to say the least. I wonder if she has me figured out. I do my best to keep up an appearance at this office but Sara seems quite astute. That both worries me and intrigues me. Do I have a purpose to her plan? I mean, I am in charge of the money in the company so maybe that’s all it is.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know the style of writing might be a bit unusual but I quite like writing in first person present.<br/>I don't know if I'll continue this story past these first two chapters but if you're interested let me know! I have loads of ideas and will continue!<br/>Any feedback would be great!!<br/>Also, disclaimer!! I don't think there is any typical girl gamer stereotypes, I just think that after working for Mythic Quest Brad would have some misconceptions about what kind of people and girls would play video games. It's not meant as a comment or insult to gamer girls!! I am one so I feel like I can say it hahaha</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sushi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brad and Sara go out for sushi and Brad doesn't understand his reaction.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ever since the day of our first conversation Sara and I have been talking a little bit more - I find myself sitting on the edge of her desk more days than not. I’ve also taken notice of her lunch schedule. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she eats a lunch brought from home but on Tuesdays and Thursdays she leaves the office to get sushi from the nearby Sushi4U! bar. I wrinkle my nose when I see this. How does she eat that garbage? I haven’t been able to eat in a Sushi4U! since I discovered the really great sushi place, Yaksamura, two and a half blocks from the office. But she always gets from the garbage place. She leaves her desk at 12:45 and returns about 13:10 with a plastic tray.  Sometimes she eats on her own. Other times she eats with Poppy or the testers, and more recently, even with Jo. Sometimes even with people that I’ve never even spoken to. On the days when I don’t see her I assume she’s down in the basement with Sue. I smirk to myself when I notice these things. She’s a little softie bitch. And I weirdly kind of like it.</p><p>One Thursday I make a split decision, at 12:43:51pm. I can’t let her eat that shit. I quickly get up from my desk and leave my office, sloping over to the elevator. Just as I press the button, and as I expected, Sara appears at my right elbow. </p><p>“Hi Brad,” she says brightly.</p><p>“Sara,” I return with a nod. </p><p>“Heading out for lunch?” she asks.</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Me too. I’m heading to get some sushi,” she tells me as the elevator doors open and we step inside. I try not to grin too obviously. </p><p>“Nice. Where are you going?” I ask casually as we start to make our descent.</p><p>“Sushi4U! It’s about a block from here so it’s pretty close,” she says. </p><p>“Euck. That place is garbage,” I say, finally glad that I can get that off my chest, “How do you even eat the shit from there?”</p><p>“It’s not that bad. I know it’s not the nicest sushi place but it’s fine,” she defends with a shrug. </p><p>“But that place Yaksamura is close by too and it’s so much better,” I point out. </p><p>“Oh yea that place is great,” she nods in agreement, “I go there on special occasions.”</p><p>“Special occasions? Aren’t you the kind of person who would spout the whole ‘every day is a special day’ bullshit?” I ask.</p><p>“I may be a bit soft but I’m not a hippy,” she says, “I go there on special occasions because I can’t afford to get from there all the time.” </p><p>Oh. It never even crossed my mind that it would have been an issue. I never really have to think about that sort of stuff, “Well, today’s a special day then. It’s on me.”</p><p>“What?” she asks her nose wrinkling.</p><p>“Sushi from Yaksamura’s on me today. I really cannot let you eat from Sushi4U! when I know that’s what you’re going to do,” I say to her, letting faux pity seep into my voice.</p><p>“Brad, you are not buying me my lunch. That’s way too much to ask,” she says a little shocked.</p><p>“Well, you’re not asking. I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing,” I point out. She stares at me and I stare back with my eyebrow raised.</p><p>“Wow. Ok. Thanks Brad,” she says finally with a small smile, “I’m only letting you do this because Yaksamura sushi is so good.”</p><p>“Well thank you. You’re very generous to let me,” I tease. </p><p>She gives me an exasperated look but there’s humour dancing around her eyes and lips. She starts smiling brightly again, “So this is what nice Brad is like, huh?”</p><p>“Oh I don’t do nice,” I inform her with a smirk, “This isn’t free. You owe me.”</p><p>“Right,” she says with a grin and a small nod, “I figured.”</p><p>“Not in money of course, that would defeat the point. But you do owe me.”</p><p>“I hope that won’t be in sexual favours,” she says with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>I let out a half scoff half chuckle, “Who do you think I am? And who do you think you are? You are not a call girl by any stretch. I mean…” I give her a look up and down, gesturing, as though to make my point but I’m grinning. And it goes without saying that she is extremely hot. I didn’t take much notice of her at first, but now I’ve grown to appreciate and fully understand the appeal of her physical appearance.</p><p>“Hey!” she punches my arm and I laugh, “You really are a dick,” she says but, again, she’s grinning.</p><p>“You’re just figuring that out?” I ask pointedly and she shakes her head and laughs.</p><p>The trip to Yaksamura becomes a routine for the two of us, less accidentally than I would like to admit. We both seem to head out for lunch at the same time and then decide to get sushi together, with me paying most of the time - she insists on paying every now and again. We stand in the line and talk, walking back to the office together but part to eat at our own desks. Or again she eats with some of our other colleagues.</p><p>Once, she suggested that we sit in the sushi bar to eat our lunch, saying that she was too hungry to wait to get back. I found myself agreeing before I let myself think about it. We’ve done that a few times now, not that often though. I like to eat on my own at lunch most of the time but I find that I don’t mind sharing my time with her too much. I don’t find her hateful and annoying like pretty much everyone else in the office. I find her conversation interesting and she’s really fucking funny. And insanely smart too. I have no idea how someone with her intellect can be working as Ian’s assistant. She’s working her way up she says. It’s all part of the plan she tells me. She wants to do what David does. That makes me shiver involuntarily.</p><p>One Tuesday lunch time we end up going to get sushi at the same time again. We walk together to the same sushi bar as usual and join the queue.</p><p>“Hmm… I’m feeling like something different today,” she says rubbing her hands together.</p><p>“What, no spicy tuna roll today?” I ask with faux shock, looking down at her. It took a little while to get over how tiny she is. And even then it still surprises me sometimes. She’s really tiny. She comes up to just above the middle of my chest, but today she is a little taller - about shoulder height - as she’s wearing her heels for a meeting she had this morning.</p><p>“Not today, my friend, not today. I’m feeling adventurous.” She strains her neck to get a look at the board with the options, “Hmm… what do you think I should get?”</p><p>“If you’re feeling adventurous you should go for the dragon roll. It’s pretty good,” I suggest.</p><p>“Eel and fish eggs? Maybe a bit too adventurous,” she says. </p><p>I laugh and shake my head, “Well, I’ve decided that I’m going to get the dragon roll then. I’ve convinced myself at least.”</p><p>“You always try new things. I wish I was like that,” she whined, “Maybe I’ll just stick to the spicy tuna.”</p><p>“No don’t do that. Get something different. Why don’t you try the shrimp tampura?”</p><p>“You know what? I think I will,” she says with a big smile and sets herself proudly. I grin at her again and roll my eyes.</p><p>We order our food and wait in the next section to collect it. </p><p>“Why don’t we sit in and eat today?” she asks once we collected our plastic covered trays, “I could use a break off my feet because of these heels.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>We take a seat near the wall in the middle of the restaurant and pop open the lids. It smells amazing. She immediately cracks open the tub of soy sauce and drowns her roll in it. </p><p>“Hmm, that’s so good,” she says nodding, “Good shout.”</p><p>“Would you like some sushi with your soy sauce?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“Shut up,” she says flipping me off and I snicker.</p><p>“I’m just saying. It’s meant to flavour the food, not drown it.”</p><p>My dragon roll is amazing and I groan as I eat it.</p><p>“Ohmygod, that is amazing,” I say.</p><p>“Is it actually?” she asks, more curious than disgusted.</p><p>“Oh yea, for sure,” I nod fervently, “Do you want to try some?”</p><p>She hesitates for a second, “Yea I think I do.”</p><p>“Wow, look at you. Being super adventurous today.”</p><p>“I know! Cut me a bit off.”</p><p>“With what? We only have chop sticks. Just take a bite,” I say.</p><p>She looks down at her hands which are covered in soy sauce, and I scrunch my face at her, in exasperation. She grabs napkins from the dispenser and goes about cleaning her hands but doesn’t seem to be doing a great job.</p><p>“You know what. Here.” I hold out a roll and gesture to her with it, “Take a bite!”</p><p>She leans and takes a bite. She does it so gracefully I’m surprised it’s the same girl sitting in front of my covered in soy sauce. Her eyes flutter up to mine as she pulls away, her hand going to her mouth. I get a wriggling sensation in my stomach.</p><p>“That is good. Really good actually,” she says appreciatively and I nod with wide eyes.</p><p>“I told you.”</p><p>She continues to fish out napkins to clean her hands.</p><p>“What are you, like, 12 years old?” I ask gesturing to her sticky hands. As I say that I realize I have no idea what age she is. She certainly looks pretty young anyway. I imagine about the same age as Jo, who I think is about 19 or 20. </p><p>“What? I’m just enjoying my food. We can’t all be Mr Perfect. I’m surprised you’re not wearing a bib to cover you precious sweater.”</p><p>“This cost me £200 dollars,” I tell her, tugging gently at my light gray, cotton blend sweater, “Of course I’m going to be careful with it.” </p><p>She rolls her eyes at me then glances at my mouth.</p><p>“Oh you’ve got a little bit of sauce,” she says patting at a point on her bottom lip.</p><p>“Oh, right!” I reach for a napkin but she leans over and her hand is on my face. Her dainty fingers graze my jaw and her thumb swipes along my lip. I’m gazing at her, and once again her eyes flutter up to mine as she pulls away slowly. My chest constricts again and I feel my breath catch slightly in my throat.</p><p>“Got it,” she says.</p><p>“Umm, thanks,” I reply kind of stupidly. </p><p>I feel heat rising to my face and I hope that she can’t see it. She turns away from my eyes and I feel my brow pinch and my lips quirk in frustration. What the fuck is wrong with me? </p><p>“We should head back to the office,” she says after a few seconds of stilted silence. I nod in agreement.</p><p>We pick up our stuff and dump it in the trash can on the way out. Once we’re out the door, Sara starts talking again as if nothing had happened. But nothing did happen. Did it? I feel a little queasy in my stomach. I try to shake off my feeling of…unease? Maybe it was the sushi. As we walk, I find my eyes sliding over to watch Sara as she talks, so animatedly with her hands, paying attention to all of her facial expressions. I feel a knot in my stomach again. Definitely food poisoning. God I’m going to regret this lunch in about half an hour. </p><p>We get to the office and we part our separate ways. I close the door and blinds in my office, and sit at my desk, waiting for the storm of food poisoning to begin. But it never comes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is a small chapter but I think it's kind of sweet. It's sort of laying the groundwork. I like the idea that Brad doesn't fully understand how he's feeling.<br/>I made up the sushi restaurant names lol</p><p>Also, another disclaimer!! I am not advocating or condemning relationships with big age differences. If we go by Danny Pudi's age, Brad would be about 40 at this stage, but things will hopefully clear up in later chapters if I decide to post. I also don't know what age Jo is in the show and I can't find anything about Jessie Ennis' age but for the purpose of the story I'd say she is about 19 or 20.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brad gets back at Poppy for her comments about him not being needed in the company, and Sara offers to help.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is loosely based on episode 2 of Mythic Quest -'The Casino'. It's not exactly the same and some things have been changed for the sake of the story. Hopefully it's not too jarring.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m standing in my office watching as the removal guys I hired to take my desk away appear to struggle with disconnecting the different parts. I hear a quick rap on the door behind me and I turn around to see Sara poking her head into my office.</p><p>“Sara. I didn’t know you were still here,” I say cheerily.</p><p>“Yea I am….” she trails off as she stares at the guys taking my desk apart. Her eyes swing across to the cardboard box on the couch filled with my desk items. Her brow furrows, “Brad. Have you been… fired?”</p><p>I let out a loud laugh and clap my hands together, “No way. They need me way too much to fire me.”</p><p>“Oh, ok,” she says a little more brightly, her expression smoothing out, and steps into the room, “So, what’s going on here then?”</p><p>“Wait. You seemed upset there for a second when you thought I’d been fired,” I point out shaking my finger at her, “Would you miss me if I left?” </p><p>“A little,” she says with a nod and I can’t help but feel a bit pleased, “I mean, I’d say I’d miss our desk talks and our accidental run ins at lunch-” I notice that she gives the word accidental a little more emphasis. She’s noticed that it’s not completely up to chance that we keep meeting at lunch? “- but I’d really only miss the sushi you buy me.”</p><p>“Ha! It would hit you where it hurts most though, right? In the pocket,” I say with a shit eating grin.</p><p>“Would you miss me?” she asks innocently, batting her eyelashes. </p><p>I saunter over to her, staring intensely into her eyes. I can see that her fun, innocent expression falters a little as I tower over, her eyes fluttering. I lean into her and speak slowly and softly, “Not even a little, doll.”</p><p>“You’re a piece of shit,” she says indignantly shoving me by the chest. I laugh out loud and let myself fall a step away from her. I kind of liked that my close proximity seemed to have an effect on her, “What are you actually doing?”</p><p>“Teaching Poppy a lesson,” I say offhandedly.</p><p>“Is this about the meeting earlier?” she asks.</p><p>“Obviously. She says this company doesn’t need me? Well, she’ll see just how much they need me,” I say rubbing my hands together.</p><p>“Sometimes I forget I work in a professional office and not in a kindergarten,” Sara sighs smiling, “Where are they taking your desk?”</p><p>“Down to the basement. Just until David and Poppy cave and I get what I want,” I say, dropping a few more things into the box.</p><p>“Fair enough,” Sara says with a nod, “Do you need any help?”</p><p>“You want to help me get back at Poppy and David?” I ask sceptically. </p><p>“It’s nothing to do with them. I just like messing with people. I’d like to get in on this,” she says grinning and I laugh with a shake of my head, “But just so you know, I will be consoling Poppy and trying to make her feel better once this all starts to get to her.”</p><p>“Oh, sure. Sure,” I say with an understanding nod, “Got to play both sides. I get that.”</p><p>“Exactly. I play both sides so I always come out on top,” she says sagely.</p><p>“You’re fucking great,” I say with a laugh, “Well, I’ve already set the timer so tomorrow morning everything in the shop becomes free and I’ve given all of Poppy’s coding staff the day off since I’m the one that pays them-” this gets a laugh from Sara, “-but I need to do more. Show her and David just exactly what I do around here.”</p><p>“Hmm… is there anything that either of them do that directly comes out of the company’s pocket?” Sara questions thoughtfully. I clap my hands together in realisation. </p><p>“Yes! Poppy uses the company account for Lyft to get to and from work. I’ll cancel it.”</p><p>“That’s genius!” </p><p>I jump over to my laptop which I have set up on David’s desk. I slip into his chair and spin around, typing furiously to cancel Poppy’s corporate Lyft account. Sara leans on the chair, standing above me.</p><p>“Can’t wait to be fielding their calls tomorrow,” I say smugly.</p><p>“You won’t be in tomorrow?”</p><p>“Nah. They’re going to know just how much they need me in the office to fix these things. And I won’t be here,” I tell her.</p><p>“Oh ok. That makes sense,” she says nodding. </p><p>“Well, I think that’s enough planning for one night. Might come up with a few more things before morning, and if you have any more ideas I’d love to hear them,” I spread my hands wide.</p><p>“I’ll make sure to let you know if I think of anything else,” she says with a glint in her eye.</p><p>“Just going to take this box down to the basement too and then I’m off. And you should be too. Why are you even still here?” I ask, only just realising how late it is as I check my watch. 8:32:19pm.</p><p>“Ian has a lot of paperwork for me to do but he has me doing so much other stupid shit during the day that I have to get it all done in the evenings,” she tells me. That sounds about right for Ian.</p><p>“Well, you should go home. You’ve done enough assisting work tonight. And may I say you were great,” I tell her with a cheeky smile.</p><p>“Thanks,” she replies giddily, “I can help you down to the basement with the rest of your stuff. Your monitor needs to go down too?”</p><p>“That would be great.”</p><p>She picks up the monitor and I grab the box and we head down to the basement. I walk over to the room where I told the removal guys to store my desk and I set the box down on a chair. Sara sets the monitor in the corner on the floor. She walks over to the chair with the cardboard box and sticks her hand into it. She takes out the glass orb paper weight and rolls it about in her hands, inspecting it.</p><p>“Tiffany and co.?” she asks me with a raised eyebrow, “You’ve got a Tiffany paperweight on your desk? God you’re pretentious.”</p><p>I snort. “It was a gift for someone but it wasn’t… appreciated.” She looks at me expectantly, “I bought it for a girlfriend. She asked for something from Tiffany, so I got her the paperweight. As you can imagine, she didn’t stay my girlfriend for much longer.”</p><p>Sara snorts in laughter, “That is hilarious. Her loss I guess.” I don’t know whether she means the paperweight or me. I don’t ask her to clarify. </p><p>About 10 minutes later we’ve parted ways, with me having to encourage Sara again to go home. I pull up into my drive-way and enter my house. It’s pretty late so I do my quick 30 minute work out in my gym, then heat up some left over Thai take away from the night before. As I’m eating, I get a notification on my smart watch to say I’ve received an email. I boot up my Mac to see that it’s from Sara with the subject header titled “More notes for tomorrow’s action plan”. My nose wrinkles, puzzled but amused.</p><p>Dear Mr Bakshi,<br/>
I have taken some time to think about further actions for your plan taking place tomorrow.<br/>
I have been made aware that our executive producer, Mr David Brittlesby, bought his new car with the money obtained from your ‘sexy nymph’ loot crate – made all the more obvious by his license plate ‘NYMFDDY’. I believe an appropriate action in line with the aforementioned plan would be to clamp his car once he arrives in the car park for work in the morning. I am more than happy to contact the company myself, as I understand that you will be unavailable tomorrow.<br/>
I would appreciate your feedback on this idea, and whether you believe it to be suitable.<br/>
Best regards,<br/>
Sara Gallagher</p><p>I let out a long, loud laugh. I reread the email just to have the pleasure of ingesting it again. She is literally brilliant. It is such a great idea. And so perfect for my game plan. I immediately hit reply to send her a return email, grinning widely the entire time.</p><p>Dear Ms Gallagher,<br/>
Thank you for your insightful email.<br/>
I agree with your assessment – I believe this to be a fitting addition to tomorrow’s strategy. Please do contact the clamping company once Mr Brittlesby has arrived in the office for his day of work.<br/>
I greatly appreciate your consideration and enthusiasm for this imperative operation.<br/>
As mentioned in your above email, I will not be present in the office tomorrow, however I would be available for lunch at Yaksamura sushi bar at 1pm, if you would care to join me? I keenly await your response.<br/>
Yours sincerely,<br/>
Brad Bakshi.</p><p>I lean back into my chair, still grinning from ear to ear. How did Ian manage to hire such an insanely talented assistant, and what the fuck is she doing wasting her time at Mythic Quest? Another email alert pops up on my watch and I jump back to the laptop to check Sara’s reply.</p><p>Dear Mr Bakshi,<br/>
I am glad you are happy with the above suggestion for your strategy. I will ensure it is executed perfectly. If there is anything else you would like me to do, please do not hesitate to contact me.<br/>
I would be available for a lunch tomorrow at 1pm. I have taken the liberty to create an invite for this event. I look forward to our meeting.<br/>
Best regards,<br/>
Sara Gallagher</p><p>Along the top of the email is an invite bar with ‘accept’ and ‘decline’ buttons titled ‘Celebratory lunch’. I shake my head, again, still grinning like a maniac as I accept. I feel buzzed and I can only assume it comes from my work out high along with anticipation for all tomorrow is going to bring.</p><p>***<br/>
The morning comes and my alarm wakes me up at the normal time of 6:30am. As I stretch out, feeling the breathable cotton sheet slide along my chest, I recall that today is the day of my plan to get back at Poppy and David. A slow smile spreads across my face. I can take it easy today as I’m not planning to go into the office and my lunch with Sara is not until 1pm. </p><p>I allow myself a little more time to lounge in bed, scrolling on my phone. I even reread the email chain between myself and Sara from last night to give myself another boost. I decide to get up about 7 and go for my normal 45 minute morning run. As I don’t need to get ready for work, I run for an extra 15 minutes, really working up a sweat. Once I return and take a shower, I allow myself the luxury of cooking a good breakfast, which I normally only do on the weekends – an egg white omelette with fresh tomato and spinach and a side of whole wheat toast. </p><p>I spend the rest of my morning lounging in my Calvin Klein sweats flipping through the tv channels. Taking time off work to spend at home always seemed pointless and gratuitous to me, but today felt different. I relished the time I could spend in front of the tv. Maybe it was different because I was meant to be at work, but was skipping out on defiance? That was definitely it. </p><p>Once it’s about midday I go upstairs to change into normal clothes. I forgo a shirt today and pull on a dark sea green sweater with slate gray, subtly pinstriped pants. It takes about 10 minutes to get my hair artfully tousled, I spray on some cologne and head out the door. </p><p>I leave slightly earlier than I probably needed to, so I arrive at Yaksamura 10 minutes before our planned meeting time. I order a bunch of options – it is a celebratory lunch after all. I’m not sitting down for too long before Sara enters the restaurant. I notice that my gaze has been constantly flicking to the door so I spot her as soon as she arrives. She sees me and springs over happily.</p><p>“Hello!” she says as she settles into the seat in front of me. </p><p>“Hi doll,” I greet her with a big smile.</p><p>“You look chipper today,” she notes.</p><p>“It’s a good day,” I reply easing back into my chair, “How’s the plan turning out.”</p><p>“Very well,” she informs me grinning, “Poppy is super pissed and David…. Well, it doesn’t take much to stress David out but it’s done the job.”</p><p>“Fantastic!”</p><p>“Should we go up and order?” she asks looking around at the queue.</p><p>“Oh, I’ve already ordered,” I say, “It shouldn’t be too long. They’re going to bring it down to us.”</p><p>Sara fills me in on the outcome of the plan, sparing no details about how pissed and stressed Poppy and David are, continuing even as our food arrives. </p><p>“Have you been consoling Poppy at all?” I ask.</p><p>“Oh yea. Getting all those brownie points from her. Listening to her, telling her she’s in the right, shit talking about you. You know, the whole deal,” she tells me.</p><p>“I’m sure the shit talking has been fun,” I say with a cheeky smile.</p><p>“Definitely. It’s nothing I wouldn’t or haven’t said to your face so it’s all good,” she grins at me. </p><p>“I love your honesty Sara.”</p><p>“Also, you know the way Poppy hides her ice cream sandwiches?” Sara asks and I nod, “Well, every now and again I sneak one when I’m in the office late. I do replace them though. But I may have finished the box last night and not had time to get more so I kind of led her to believe that you got rid of her ice cream sandwiches,” she tells me and I laugh.</p><p>“Ooh. I’m sure that’s pissed her off. She loves those ice cream sandwiches.”</p><p>“I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Since I’ve thrown you under the bus with that,” she says with a grin that says she’s not really that sorry. I open my hands to show that I am fine with it. It’s another pretty funny move.</p><p>“I did tell her if I seen you I’d let her know but eh,” she shrugs and I laugh.</p><p>We take our time eating, and Sara doesn’t seem too rushed to get back to the office. She told me that Ian and CW have been locked in CW’s office all day working on the masked man storyline. After about 30 minutes, and an jug of iced sake tea, my phone lights up and vibrates on the table. I check the caller ID – to check if it’s David or Poppy – but it’s not. </p><p>“It’s Ian,” I tell Sara whose eyebrows have risen in curiosity. She gestures for me to go ahead and answer and I do.</p><p>“Ian,” I greet him.</p><p>“Ok, so me and CW have worked out the masked man backstory-” he says, getting straight into it. He delves into the story about how he’s a villain who works in the (my) casino, as he’s a loot giver and a loot taker. There’s another character, the white knight, who is destined to duel and unmask the masked man and a lot of other bullshit. Sara sits graciously as I listen to Ian’s spiel, still picking away at the food in front of us.</p><p>“-and this will all be revealed at the grand opening of the casino,” Ian finishes with a flourish.</p><p>“This is great, Ian. Really great,” I say a grin spreading across my face. I’m getting everything I want and Poppy has nothing to do with it. Sara looks up at me and I give her a wink.</p><p>“I’d like to get started right away on getting the casino ready, having Poppy and her team do the bug fixes, and we need you for the monetization shit-”</p><p>“I can be in the office in about 15 minutes,” I say. At this, Sara’s head snaps up and she looks at me with wide inquisitive eyes. </p><p>“Great.” And Ian’s gone.</p><p>“You’re heading back to the office?” Sara asks as I set my phone back on the table.</p><p>“Yep,” I nod, “Everything’s sorted.”</p><p>“Everything’s sorted?” she parrots back.</p><p>“Ian’s going to reveal the masked man’s backstory at the grand opening of my casino and is going to make Poppy work on it,” I inform her. I spread my hands open, “I’m getting exactly what I wanted.”</p><p>“Seems like it’s all worked out,” Sara says, sharing my grin, “Do you want to go back to the office now?”</p><p>“No, we’ll stay and finish our food,” I assure her, which we do. </p><p>We leave the restaurant about 10 minutes later and Sara makes to walk back to the office but I gesture in the direction of where my car is parked, “I can give you a ride back to the office.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Once in the car, it only takes about two minutes to arrive at the office car park. I pull up into a space and put the car into park. I’d felt Sara’s eyes on me as I was driving but I only look over at her once we are at a stop.</p><p>“We probably shouldn’t go up together,” she points out and I nod in agreement, “We’ve both got reputations to uphold and all that.”</p><p>“That we do, doll,” I say, “You should head on up first.”</p><p>“Ok. I’ll see you up there in a few minutes. And thanks for the sushi today,” she says the last comment with genuine sincerity that touches me in places I didn’t know existed. I give her a slow smile.</p><p>“Get out of my car, you soft bitch,” I say, albeit rather gently. </p><p>“Fucker.” She rolls her eyes at me but there’s a smile on her lips. She opens the car door and swings her legs out of the car, “Oh, one last thing. I’m sure Poppy and David will want to see you when you get in. Let me be the one to tip them off.”</p><p>I gesture affirmatively with my hand, “You did tell Poppy you’d let her know if you saw me.”</p><p>“See you upstairs.”</p><p>Sara closes the car door and I watch as she walks away from the car. God, she’s so much fun to be around. I would never have believed I’d ever think that about someone I work with. I’m actually starting to think I like her. In a friend way of course. I don’t do crushes. Sure, I date occasionally when I can be bothered but I can’t think of a time when I truly felt anything but sexual attraction for a woman. Plus, she’s far too young. I still don’t know for sure, but she’s probably about 19 or 20. That’s ok for a work friend, but not to date or have sex with. Even though she is hot.<br/>
I shake my head of these thoughts. It’s about time I head upstairs. Before I do, I open my laptop and undo my deeds from last night; I turn the prices back on and reactivate Poppy’s lift account. I’ve done my bit and made my point.</p><p>The elevator door slides open and I saunter into the office. My eyes immediately find Sara sitting at her desk, and she’s already looking at me. I wink at her and she returns a small yet cheeky smile. I slide my hands into my pants pockets and head towards my office. I am quickly intercepted by Ian.</p><p>“Brad. You’re here,” he says with a clap of his hands, “Let’s head to the conference room to hash out these details.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Sara,” he calls across the office. I turn my head to look at her and she’s focused on Ian, “Conference room. I need you to take notes of this.”</p><p>“I’ll be right there Ian,” she says as she starts to gather her things.</p><p>Ian ushers me towards the conference room. We leave the shop talk for the minute and are joined by CW. We hadn’t been sitting down too long before Sara enters the office cradling her laptop. She makes eye contact with all of us but her eyes stay on mine for a split second longer, with a mischievous light around her eyes. I immediately find out why. Poppy and David come barreling into the room with a chorus of ‘Brad’s. </p><p>“Brad. Brad. We need you,” David says pressing him palms together. I raise my eyebrow at him with a smirk and have to stop myself from giving Sara a grin.</p><p>“Those were my ice cream sandwiches, you absolute piece of sh-” Poppy starts through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Poppy!” David interjects and she falls quiet, still seething.</p><p>“Brad. Please, please turn the prices back on?” David begs. </p><p>“Yea, yea I already did that,” I say with a shrug. </p><p>“You… you have?” </p><p>“Wait, you mean you caved?” Poppy asks looking almost gleeful.</p><p>“Nah, nah,” I say as though that was obvious, “Ian agreed to unmask the masked man at the casino, so I got everything I wanted.”</p><p>“Ian, you cannot cave to this guy! He’s a sociopath who only cares about the money!” Poppy says.</p><p>“Poppy, it makes narrative sense for the game. It ties it all together. The perfect blend of art and commerce,” Ian tells her.</p><p>I interlock my fingers, with a smug look, which only seems to taunt Poppy more. She’s practically vibrating with rage.</p><p>“Sara was right!” Poppy yells at me, “She said you are a bottom feeding, soul sucking corporate money leech!”</p><p>“Did she now?” I ask with an air of bemusement. I swivel in my chair to face Sara, who looks up at me with a not-so-sheepish smile. She gives me a small shrug that says ‘I’ve got to play both sides’. I cock my eyebrow at her in humour. God, she’s great.</p><p>“While Sara may have a point,” Ian says, “You do realise that the money that Brad brings in makes the whole game run. You understand that, right?”</p><p>Poppy seems to be simmering down and crosses her arms in defeat, mumbling that she understood. I smile smugly again. </p><p>“Great. Glad we’ve got this all sorted,” Ian says with a clap also getting to his feet, “Let’s get down to the details.”</p><p>After the meeting, I spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on the couch in my office, doing some work on my laptop. I contact the removal guys again, to bring my desk back upstairs and put it back together. By the time this has been done, it’s the end of the day and most people have already left the office. I’ve retrieved my box of desk items from the basement and I set it on the desk, ready to begin unloading them out. There are a few short raps on my office door and I glance round. Sara is standing in the doorway.</p><p>“Hey,” I say, “You’re in the office late. Again.”</p><p>“Yea. I was just finishing up and I saw your office light on. Thought I’d swing by,” she tells me. I gesture for her to come in which she does, perching herself on the arm of the couch. </p><p>“Great work today,” I tell her with an appreciatively humorous smile.</p><p>“Same to you,” she grins, “Poppy told me her Lyft account was reactivated and I saw that David’s car had been unclamped. It’s nice of you to ease up.”</p><p>“Yea, well, my point was made. No need to continue torturing them,” I say. </p><p>“And you got what you wanted.”</p><p>“I sure did.”</p><p>There’s a little bit of silence but it’s not uncomfortable as we look at each other. There is a bit of tension in the air between us that I don’t fully understand. It looks as though Sara is about to say something but then she gives me a small smile.</p><p>“Well, I better get going,” she says sliding off the arm rest. </p><p>“Yea, you need to stop staying so late in the office. Don’t care so much,” I tell her and she laughs.</p><p>“Words of wisdom. I’ll keep them in mind,” she pauses, “I had fun these last few days. It was great working with you.”</p><p>“Me too,” I agree, “And you’ve been incredible.”</p><p>“Well, you can always try and poach me from Ian,” she says jokingly. </p><p>I laugh, “He’d never give you up. And he’d be stupid to even think about it.”</p><p>She gives me a wide, slightly self-effacing grin, “Goodnight Brad.”</p><p>“Goodnight, doll. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>With a nod she leaves my office. I smile to myself and shake my head. I start to unload my things back onto my newly reconstructed desk. I set each thing in its place until I pick out the glass paperweight. I hold it in my hands, feeling its weight rolling in my palm. I find myself walking out of my office and across to Sara’s now unoccupied desk. I stand there for moment before laying it gently beside her monitor, a small smile on my face.</p><p>I feel oddly… warm, inside. Without really thinking about it, I find myself heading towards the elevator. As I do, I notice that the testers are still in their little booth. I exit the building and walk to the small corner store. I pick up a box of ice cream sandwiches, a box of cookies and some donuts. After paying, I head back to the office.</p><p>I put the ice cream sandwiches in the freezer, ensuring to slip them into the opened frozen burger box sitting inside. I make my way to Poppy’s desk and scribble onto a post it note which I stick to one of her monitors – Check the freezer. I swing back round to the tester booth.</p><p>“Knock, knock,” I say in time with my raps, as I peer inside. </p><p>Both girls are slumped on their couch with their feet up on the table, laughing and talking. Their heads whip around to me and they scramble to sit up straighter, grabbing their controllers. I raise my hands to show I come in peace and they relax a little.</p><p>“Working late?” I question and they both nod.</p><p>“We’re working on the casino. It needs done by tomorrow and there’s a lot of bugs,” Rachel, the annoying one, tells me.</p><p>“I thought as much. It’s garbage,” I say, “But I’ve got these. They might make the evening a little better.”</p><p>I hold out the box of donuts towards them. They hesitate and I shake it a little bit, “They’re not poisoned, I promise. We need your labour too much.”</p><p>Dana reaches out gingerly and takes the box from me, “Thanks.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. Have fun.” </p><p>And with that I step out of their booth and walk back to my office, collecting the box of cookies I’d left on the closest desk on my way past. I set them on David’s desk and continue to unload my items from the box. It doesn’t take much longer and ten minutes later I’m heading home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A little bit more tension and I love soft Brad. </p><p>Also, did you catch my It's Always Sunny reference?? Very Machiavellian - and said by Mac too lol.</p><p>I don't know why Brad checking his watch has become a thing but it has.</p><p>I've been posting a lot of chapters today because I've got a good amount written and I just want to get them out there. Next chapter may be a part 1 and part 2 and it will defs become a bit more steamy. It's going to turn into porn with plot as time goes on as this is what it started out as lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The night before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brad meets Sara and her friends at the bar. A drunken night out turns into something more.</p><p>**Explicit sexual content**</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I push open the door leading from the restrooms. I make my way over to the busy bar to order. Two attractive women sitting at a table nearby seem to be watching me as I wait to get served. I give them a slow, flirtatious smile and they giggle to each other, and continue to make eyes at me. I’m sure the guys wouldn’t mind too much if I spent some time with these lovely ladies. Just as I’m about to forgo buying another drink to make myself available for these ladies, I hear someone call my name. The voice sounds familiar but in my drunken state I can’t place it or find where it’s coming from. </p><p>“Brad!” I hear again – it’s definitely a female voice - and I turn my head in a few directions trying to find who is calling me. My eyes finally settle on a large booth in the corner with a relatively large group of people sitting at it, and I see who has been calling me. Sara is standing up between this group, looking at me, and she gives me a wave whenever she catches my eye. She slides her way out and skips over to me. </p><p>I can’t help but let my eyes take her in, roving up and down her petite frame. Fuck, she looks good tonight. She’s wearing tight skinny jeans, and a tiny crop top that exposes a good bit of her midriff and cleavage. Her hair which is normally pulled up into a ponytail or a bun and curly, is now down and straight. The make-up she is wearing only does her favors, enhancing her already beautiful eyes and emphasizing her lips.</p><p>“Well, hello there,” I say grinning at her once she’s within earshot. I reach out and place my hand on her waist, not really thinking about why.</p><p>“Hey,” she says returning my grin, and she lays a small hand on my forearm, “What brings you here?”</p><p>“There was a game on today so a few guys and I went out to watch it and have a few beers,” I tell her, gesturing towards the other end of the bar where my group are sitting, being quite rowdy.</p><p>“More than a few beers I think,” she snickers, and I raise my eyebrows at her. Yes I am more than a little bit drunk, “But wait. You have friends?” She asks this with faux dubiousness.</p><p>“Eh. They’re a means to an end mostly,” I admit, “It’s not as enjoyable watching a game and getting shitfaced on your own.”</p><p>“I get that,” she nods. The bar tender leans over towards us.</p><p>“Can I get you guys a drink?” he asks.</p><p>“A beer, please,” I reply.</p><p>“Can I get a gin and tonic, please?” she requests. </p><p>He nods then moves to prepare the drinks. A thought comes crashing into my brain. Sara is here, in a bar, drinking. Isn’t she under the legal drinking age? I turn to face her with a faux judgemental look on my face- not that her underage drinking bothers me at all.</p><p>“Hey! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” I demand.</p><p>“What?” she questions, confused.</p><p>“Aren’t you, like, 19 or something?” I ask, “You’re not even allowed to be in here.”</p><p>She stares at me with a screwed up, disbelieving expression, “Brad, I’m 27.”</p><p>“You are?” I ask, truly shocked. </p><p>“Yes! And also, have you never heard of using a fake ID?” she asks, but I continue to gape at her, “You’ve been thinking I was 19 this entire time?”</p><p>“Well, yea,” I say, still reeling. She is 27 years old?! She’s not under the legal drinking age? I feel incredibly pleased, but still shocked. I mean, she’s still pretty young but she is a grown adult woman, not a kid. I don’t know why I feel like this has changed things, but I immediately feel different inside, “I just assumed you were because Jo is pretty young.”</p><p>“Yea, that’s fair. I guess I do look kind of young for my age. I still get carded everywhere,” she says with an exasperated roll of her eyes.</p><p>“Well, shit,” I say, “I guess that means I can tell you that you look hot tonight.” </p><p>And she does. She laughs at me and rolls her eyes, but I can see a light flush coloring her chest.</p><p>“And look at you. No sweater,” she comments, gently touching the navy-blue v neck t-shirt I’m wearing, “You look good.”</p><p>“I always do, doll,” I say with a cheeky grin. The bartender returns and set our drinks down in front of us. </p><p>“Let me get that,” I start, putting my hand into my pocket to grab my wallet, but Sara is already handing bills over. </p><p>“You can buy me another one later. I’m here to get drunk,” she tells me with a wink, then quickly turns to the bartender again, “Actually, keep the rest of that and bring us two shots.”</p><p>“Ugh, shots,” I groan but I feel giddy.</p><p>“Yes, shots.”</p><p>Two shot glasses filled with liquid are set down in front of us. We clink them together and down it in one. I screw up my face in disgust as it burns on the way down, and I slam it back down onto the counter, as does Sara. </p><p>“Ugh, shots,” we say together at the same time, and we grin at each other.</p><p>“I should probably get back to my friends,” Sara says.</p><p>I glance back across to the table that she came from. It’s a pretty big group, and I quickly count six people sitting there, who all seem to be talking amongst themselves, occasionally looking over at us.</p><p>“Who are all those guys?” I ask waving my hand at them, “They’re not people from work. Are they?” I honestly wouldn’t even be able to tell if they worked at Mythic Quest. I don’t really pay attention to people who work below me – Sara really being the only exception. </p><p>“No, they’re not. And it wouldn’t hurt for you to get to know some of the other people we work with,” she tells me a little indignantly.</p><p>“God, you’re the worst,” I groan, and she shakes her head with a humorously exasperated sigh. I love that she doesn’t get offended by my brashness. And I love that she’s able to give it back to me. </p><p>“They’re my friends from college,” she tells me, “Do you want to sit with us for a bit?”</p><p>“Sure,” I reply before really thinking about my answer. </p><p>Her face lights up and she smiles. She starts walking, leading the way back to her table. I don’t know why I feel like being social with her friends, but I do. I want to see her with her friends, and I want to spend a bit of time with her, outside of work hours.</p><p>“Guys, this is Brad. We work together,” she introduces as we reach the table, “He’s going to sit with us for a bit.” </p><p>They all acknowledge me in some way, with a nod or a wave or a ‘hello’. I glance around at the group as I slide into the booth after Sara. Starting from Sara, going anticlockwise, there is a tall, fit looking blonde guy, an attractive blonde girl, a slightly heavy black woman, a petite pretty brunette girl, a scrawny looking brown kid, and an athletic black kid. They easily allow me to slip into their group conversation. As we chat, and Sara and I are laughing along with her friends, I find myself wanting them to like me. I am not one for changing who I am, but they seem to accept me anyway. And Sara and I fall into our easy banter like we do when it’s just us. I also find myself wondering if one of these guys is Sara’s boyfriend. She’s never mentioned a guy before, but I guess we are only work colleagues, so she probably wouldn’t bring it up. </p><p>“So, Brad, are you, like, Sara’s boss?” the attractive blonde girl asks.</p><p>“Yes,” I say at the same time as Sara says “No.”</p><p>We both look at each other questioningly.</p><p>“I don’t work for you,” Sara says with a scoff, “I work for Ian.”</p><p>“Yea, but I am your superior. And the money I make from my job goes into everybody’s pay check, including yours. So technically, I am kind of your boss,” I point out smugly.</p><p>“Whatever. But there’s no way I’d ever take an order from you in the office,” she says. I can tell she’s being playful.</p><p>“That’s because you suck at your job,” I tell her, also being playfully. I’ve never been shy about telling her how much I admire her work ethic.</p><p>“No, it’s because you’re a dick,” she retorts. </p><p>This garners a few gasps from her group of friends.</p><p>“Sara! You shouldn’t speak to your boss like that,” the petite brunette says aghast, “You might get in trouble.”</p><p>“Yea Sara, listen to your friend. She seems pretty smart,” I say with a look at the other girl and I tilt my head, “And just pretty.”</p><p>She is very attractive, in a cute way. She kind of looks like Sara – the same way any pretty, petite brunette would – but in my personal opinion, Sara is hotter. That doesn’t stop me from giving this girl a seductive look, with a slow smile. The girl goes red but gives me a shy smile, looking demurely through her eyelashes at me.</p><p>“Hey! Don’t do that,” Sara says and I turn my attention back to her. </p><p>“Do what? I’m not doing anything,” I reply innocently.</p><p>“You’re looking at her like you want to eat her,” she tells me and I smile smugly.</p><p>“It’s not my fault that I can’t help it,” I say, turning my eyes back to the girl, who seems almost giggly at my gaze.</p><p>“Hey!” Sara says again, swatting at my chest. She turns to the girl, “You’re far too nice for him. He’s sociopathic. He’d eat you up and spit you back out again.”</p><p>“I can promise it would be enjoyable though,” I tell the girl with a wink. I’m not actually interested at all in this girl. She does seem far too innocent and that bores me. I’m just enjoying the reaction it’s getting out of Sara. </p><p>“Stop it,” she says again, punching my arm, “I mean it.”</p><p>“And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?” I challenge.</p><p>“You want to know what I’d do about it?” Sara asks and I nod. She leans in speaking in a low voice, “I’d break my way into the records room in the office, and find your file, with your address. Then I’d send you a fake invite to the opening of some pretentious, sleazy, made up club that you’d no doubt be willing to attend. And when you’re not home, I’d get into your house and I’d undo all the stitching in your precious, expensive sweaters.”</p><p>I gasp in faux (mostly) horror. She threatened my sweaters. I hear another gasp and the attractive blonde guy sitting behind Sara seems shocked at this too.</p><p>“You wouldn’t dare,” I say leaning in close to her.</p><p>“Try me.”</p><p>“You are psychotic,” I tell her.</p><p>“You’re just figuring that out?” she replies, her eyebrow cocked, lips quirking in humor. We stare at each other in mock antagonism. After a few seconds, I slump back into the seat and raise my hands placatingly in defeat.</p><p>“Fine. You win,” I say and then I turn back to the girl, “You heard her sweetheart. It’s not our time.”</p><p>Sara rolls her eyes and leans back against the chair too. I stay with Sara and her friends for a little longer, before I excuse myself to go back to my own group. </p><p>“I should probably head back to the guys for a bit,” I say and Sara’s friends nod in understanding, as does Sara. After the customary adieu I turn to Sara, “Let me buy you another drink.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>I slide out of the booth and Sara follows and we stand over at the bar. Sara hops up onto a free bar stool as I order another round. </p><p>“So, tell me,” I say rounding on her, “Which one of those guys is your boyfriend?” She raises an eyebrow at me. “My money is on the good-looking blonde guy.”</p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend,” she replies.</p><p>“Huh! He’s not? I really would have been willing to bet on that,” I say with a surprised shake of my head. I want to fish for more information, more than a little curious, “Are you interested in him at all?”</p><p>“Nah. He’s a nice guy but everybody crushes on him. It’s boring and played out,” she tells me and I nod in understanding.</p><p>“So, it’s the football player then,” I state, him being the next obvious choice.</p><p>“Nope,” she says.</p><p>“Really?” There’s not really that many other options in the group, “Did I get it wrong, and you actually have a partner?”</p><p>“No,” she replies.</p><p>“It’s not the scrawny nerd is it?” I ask, my nose scrunched up in disbelief.</p><p>“Why does everybody always say that about him? I don’t get it,” she says throwing her hands up, “He’s super cute and sweet and surprisingly attractive.”</p><p>“So, it is him?” I ask, stunned.</p><p>“No, it’s not. I just like him a lot and no one ever seems to take him seriously as an option. He’s actually pretty great,” she says defensively.</p><p>“You like him though, right?” I prod.</p><p>“Nah, not really. I liked him a little bit when we first met, but he wasn’t interested. And we’ve just been friends ever since, and I don’t feel that way about him anymore,” she tells me.</p><p>“Rejected by the nerd. Oof, that must have hurt,” I jibe jokingly. I feel both happy that I can poke fun at her but also slightly relieved for some reason.</p><p>“Haha,” she retorts with an eye roll, “To be fair, I don’t think he’s interested in girls. Or anyone really.”</p><p>I give a shrug and reach out to pick up my drink and take a sip, and Sara does the same.</p><p>“So, where is your boyfriend tonight? He doesn’t mind that you’re spending your Friday night without him?” I ask.</p><p>“Where did you hear I had a boyfriend?” she questions and I shrug again.</p><p>“I didn’t hear from anyone. I just assumed that you do,” I say.</p><p>“You’ve made a few assumptions about me it seems. And you’re usually wrong,” she says, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”</p><p>“You don’t?” I ask, shocked again and she shakes her head, “Really? How is a smart, funny, good looking girl like you single? There must be something wrong with you.”</p><p>She snorts, “That’s rich coming from you.”</p><p>“Fair point. But I stand behind mine,” I say.</p><p>“I guess the right guy just hasn’t discovered me yet,” she says, her eyes unusually averted from mine. After a second she looks back at me again, “I assume you’ve not got a special someone in your life. Other than yourself of course.”</p><p>“You’re right. But what makes you assume that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“Well, I saw you making eyes with two ladies earlier, before I met you at the bar,” she tells me.</p><p>“Oh, shit yea!” I say and I snap my head round to look at the table where the two women had been but I couldn’t see them.</p><p>“They left ages ago,” she informs me, “They looked pretty pissed that you didn’t end up going over to them.”</p><p>“They should’ve been. They missed out on this,” I gesture to myself and Sara rolls her eyes, smirking.</p><p>“You should head back to your friends,” she says, “I’ve taken you away from them long enough.”</p><p>“Yea I probably should,” I reply, “I had fun though. With your friends. And you.”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“I’ll come back over before I go?” It was more of a question that a statement. I want to know that she wants me to come back. Her bright expression tells me all I need to know.</p><p>“That would be great,” she smiles.</p><p>A few hours pass and I decide to go back to Sara and her friends. I’m bored sitting with the group of guys I’m with and I’ve been thinking about her all night. The scrawny brown kid notices me as I make my way across and he raises a hand in greeting, alerting everyone else to me. Everyone else greets me loudly - 	I notice that the black lady is gone-, they’re all very drunk, as am I. I have another drink with them as we talk and laugh. I might actually enjoy this socialising thing more than I thought. </p><p>After a while, the attractive blonde guy has separated himself from the group to flirt with a girl sitting at the table adjacent to us. The petite brunette has made her way to the bar and is talking with an accent to those around her, and the nerd is talking animatedly about some nerd shit to a guy at a near by table. The only ones left at the table are me and Sara, the footballer and the attractive blonde girl. I’ve finally put together that these two are dating, as they have their arms around each other and have taken a drink out of each other’s mouths.</p><p>“Brad, you should take a shot off of Sara’s body,” the blonde girl slurs.</p><p>“He should take a shot off of me?” Sara asks, “Have you seen his collarbones? You could take a shot out of them no problem.” She dances her fingers across my ridge of my collarbone, almost reverently, “Gotdam, you have amazing bone structure. Your face too. Those cheekbones!”</p><p>“I was just born with it, doll,” I say smugly, loving the way her hands feel on me.</p><p>The other two egg Sara on to take a shot off me and we both agree. I lean back against the back of the chair, my arm loosely draped around the back, around Sara. She pours a little bit of her drink into a shot glass then pulls the collar of my shirt down to expose more skin. She delicately pours the contents of the glass into the crook of my collarbone, and I feel it dripping down my neck and some drips down my chest under my shirt, but I don’t care.</p><p>Sara moves in closer to me and begins to sip the liquid off my skin. I feel the suction of her mouth and it feels so good. I can’t help but close my eyes and lean my head back. She continues to use her mouth on my skin, licking and slurping. Her lips trail along, creating a blaze where they touch, and they travel a little further up, to my neck. I let out a gentle moan as she sucks a soft spot on my neck, so quiet I don’t think anyone else can hear it. Her lips move again slightly further up, I tilt my head towards her, then my lips are on hers.</p><p>Ours lips move together, softly if a little sloppily. She tastes sweet and of alcohol, her lips soft and supple. I instinctively pull Sara closer to my body and her hand still on the collar of my shirt, grips it more tightly. We kiss each other tamely, but there’s a fire burning inside of me. I want to hold her closer and tighter, and kiss her deeply and for longer. But we pull away long before I am ready to stop. Her eyes, initially unfocused, gaze into mine, and then she puts her fingers to her lips, releasing her grasp on me.</p><p>“Oops,” she says as she goes red.</p><p>“Sorry. I’m a little drunk,” I excuse myself, but I don’t feel sorry. But I want to give Sara an out, if she isn’t comfortable with what happened. </p><p>“Me too,” she replies, intensely looking at me.</p><p>“So, it’s agreed?” I ask, hoping she will take the lead, so I know where her head is at.</p><p>“Yea,” she says slowly, “We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”</p><p>I nod and after a few seconds of more intense eye contact we turn away from each other and back to the group. I rest my arm along the back of the chair behind Sara, removing my grasp on her. The other two seem to have completely ignored what was going on between me and Sara which I’m thankful for. I notice that Sara hasn’t tried to put any distance between us, and she is still sort of sitting flush against me. I don’t make any moves to distance myself from her either. I feel weird and conflicted, unsure of what it meant when we were kissing and why it made me feel the way it did. I try to shake it off. She’s says it didn’t happen, so it didn’t happen.</p><p>It’s not much longer before we decide it is probably time to head home. It’s late and the bar is closing up soon. We order a few cabs - with me, Sara and the couple in one as we’re heading in the same direction, and the other three going in another. We all say goodbye and her friends say that I should join them again at some point, and I agree. I really can’t understand why I enjoyed myself so much tonight, spending time with other people. </p><p>“Where are you headed?” the cab driver asks as we all get into the car. Sara and I slide into the back seat and the other two get in the front – it’s one of those weird 3-seater front seat cars. The couple have already started making out and he looks at them, displeased.</p><p>“Give him your address,” Sara says tapping me with the back of her hand. I lean forward and tell him my address, then sink back into the car seat, my head lolling back against the head rest. I’m definitely starting to feel a bit dizzy now.</p><p>“He’s very drunk and I want to make sure he gets home ok,” Sara says in a fake, loud whisper.</p><p>“Hey!” I exclaim, opening my eyes and narrowing my gaze at her, “It should be me making sure you get home ok. And I’m no more drunker than you are.”</p><p>“You had more to drink than me,” she slurs, proving my point and I snicker.</p><p>“I can handle it better. I’m bigger than you,” I point out, leaning into her.</p><p>“You’re stupider than me,” she says poking a finger into my chest, leaning in too, and staring at me with mischievous eyes. I gaze back with my eyebrow cocked, trying to keep her face in focus.</p><p>“No. You’re stupider,” I retort. </p><p>We stare at each other, faux menacingly, but I see her expression start to soften and become more deliberate. She leans in even closer and then she’s pressing her lips against mine, her hand resting against my neck. I embrace her as though I’d been waiting for her, which I guess I kind of had, my hands gripping her hips. We kiss more intensely than the last time, our lips crushing against each other’s. </p><p>Even in my drunken, slightly euphoric, state I recall earlier, when she said she wanted to pretend our kiss didn’t happen. What if she didn’t want to do this? I already can’t remember who kissed who this time. I don’t want to do this if she isn’t comfortable. I gently push back on her hips, trying to create some distance between us, and pull away from her lips. I grasp my fingers under her jaw and tilt her head up to look at me.</p><p>“Is this ok?” I ask softly, and slightly out of breath, “We don’t have to if you’re not…”</p><p>But Sara is already shaking her head before I can finish, her eyes earnest, “It’s ok. I want to.”</p><p>With a satisfied nod, I pull her into me again and press my lips to hers, cupping her face. But we are cut off short again as Sara pulls away from me.</p><p>“Wait. This is ok with you, right?” she asks, seemingly appalled that she didn’t ask for my consent. </p><p>“Oh yea, definitely,” I confirm.</p><p>“Good,” she says and she practically launches herself at me again. </p><p>I pull her firmly closer to me, one hand around the back of her neck, the other still on her waist. Sara immediately weaves her fingers into my hair, drawing herself as close to me as she can. She is basically sitting in my lap. Our lips move fervently together, I slip my tongue into her mouth, and she responds with a shallow moan. I do very little to restrain myself from running my hands over her body – I’m desperate to touch her skin under her jeans and jacket. </p><p>“Hey buddy!” </p><p>I begrudgingly pull away from Sara’s lips and tilt my head towards the voice, and she begins to kiss my neck and jawline. I glance over and the cab driver is twisted in his seat, looking at me, at us, with his nose scrunched up. I find it hard to focus on him, from both the alcohol and the exquisite feeling of Sara’s lips on my skin.</p><p>“This is your place?” he questions. I look out the window and I see my familiar house and I nod. </p><p>I run my hands up to Sara’s face and I cup her gently and move her back to look at me, “Hey.” My voice comes out more huskily than I had intended, “Do you, ah… want to come in? For another drink?”</p><p>“Yes,” Sara replies, her eyes both bright and intense.</p><p>“I don’t think either of you need any more to drink,” the blonde girl says from the front.</p><p>“You’re the worst,” we both retort, and we grin at each other.</p><p>I hand some bills across to driver, and we bid farewell to the others. I lead Sara up the path to my house and unlock the front door. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her taking in the surroundings. She follows me into the house and through to the living room. </p><p>“Wow, this is a really nice place,” she says as she settles herself on the couch, looking around from her vantage point, “It’s really… homely.”</p><p>“Not what you were expecting?” I ask, my lips quirking up.</p><p>“Not particularly. I thought you’d be more of a bachelor pad kind of guy,” she tells me, watching as I sit down next to her, facing her, “Or that you’d live in some creepy castle with a moat in a dark forest.”</p><p>“Nah. That’s my vacation home,” I jest and she snickers. I lie my arm along the back of the sofa, letting my hand come to rest on Sara’s neck, gently brushing my fingers along her skin. I see her shiver at my touch, “Can I get you something to drink?”</p><p>“I’m ok without,” she murmurs, her eyes dark and heavy lidded. Fuck that is so hot. She wants me and I can see it so clearly. </p><p>I lean into her slowly, keeping my gaze on her the whole time. I tilt my head and let my lips touch hers gently. She meets my lips and places her hand on the flat plane of my chest. We kiss softly at first but it becomes more urgent before long, and we’re grasping at each other. I hook my hand under her and ease her back into the cushions and I slip in between her legs. I grip her thigh and she slides her leg along my side, wrapping it around me. My hand hovers at her waist, touching the bare skin exposed there by her crop top. Her skin is hot and soft and my fingers itch to move further up. </p><p>“Can I…?” I breathe, lightly fingering the bottom hem of her shirt. </p><p>She nods and I put my lips to hers again. I let my hand slip under her shirt, moving up until I’m cupping her bra clad breast. I ache for more skin contact, so I guide my hand under the material, pushing it out of the way, and caress her. I brush my thumb over her hardening nipple, circling, before pinching it gently. Sara exhales quietly and I feel her body squirm beneath me. I pull away from her lips, to nip the skin of her neck and she’s breathing rather heavily, grasping at my hair. I lick and suck my way up to her ear, kissing the spot just behind it.</p><p>“You’ll tell me to stop if you don’t want to do something or you don’t like something?” I question, “I only want to do what you want me to do.”</p><p>“I will,” she tells me breathlessly, “And you too?”</p><p>“Of course,” I reply. There's not much I wouldn't let her do to me right now.</p><p>She pulls me in to kiss her again, but after a few seconds she stops, pushing my chest gently. I gaze down at her, worried that she’s changed her mind.</p><p>“Can I take your shirt off?” she asks, “I’ve been dying to see what’s underneath those sweaters.”</p><p>I give her an easy grin. She pushes my shirt up and I help by gripping it from the back and slipping it off over my head, tossing it to the ground. Her eyes drift down my chest and stomach, unabashedly, and she reaches her fingers out to brush them along her line of vision. Goosebumps race across my skin at her touch and under her gaze. I love the look on her face, one of concentration and appreciation. </p><p>“You are so hot,” she says.</p><p>While I’m aware that I’m not the most classically built guy, I work hard on my body - I’m lean and muscular – and I have no shortage of self-confidence. I know that I’ve got a great body, but Sara is young, gorgeous and sexy and has a knockout personality - she could get anyone. It pleases me to no end hearing her tell me that she thinks I’m hot.</p><p>“You think I’m hot?” I question, just wanting her to tell me again.</p><p>“You are so hot,” she repeats emphatically and she angles down to start kissing my chest. </p><p>“What about me is hot?” I want her to keep talking.</p><p>“Your chest. Your abs. Your shoulders. Your hands,” she tells me. She punctuates each point with a kiss somewhere on my chest moving upwards with each one and I can’t help but moan softly. Her comment about my hands surprises me a little. She thinks I have hot hands? What does that even mean? I don’t get a lot of time to ponder it as she finishes her thoughts, “Your hair. Your face. Your lips.”<br/>
On the last one she presses her lips against mine again and we’re kissing. I am so turned by everything – kissing her, her body rolling beneath mine, her obvious desire for me, her words. Just her. I can feel my cock straining hard against the constraint of my jeans and I don’t know how much longer I can go without giving it some sort of attention, or at least letting it know that it will be getting somewhere soon.</p><p>“Will we go upstairs?” I ask rather gruffly, trying to contain myself.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>I pull myself and Sara up off the sofa and lead her up the stairs. I notice that her eyes don’t dart around the house this time, her gaze fixed solely on me. I can’t help but let a satisfied smile form on my lips. Just before the end, Sara shoots up the last few stairs. I can see her hard nipples poke through her shirt and bra. As I reach the top step, Sara hooks her finger into my belt, pulling me further onto the landing, her eyes boring deeply into mine. She begins to undo the buckle, pulling it free and slowly undoes the button of my jeans.</p><p>I advance on her, pressing her back against the wall in the hallway. I’m towering over her tiny frame, watching as she pulls the zipper down, her fingers brushing my throbbing, hard cock. Her eyes never leave mine. I hook my hands under her ass and pull her up into my arms, and she immediately wraps her legs around my torso, encircling her arms around my neck. I push her rather forcefully against the wall, devouring her lips with mine. I grind my aching cock into her, desperate to create some friction. She moans into my mouth, gripping tightly at my hair. She pulls so hard it’s bordering on painful, but all I feel is pleasure. I groan and push myself against her harder. </p><p>“Brad, you’re so strong,” she pants, running her hands across my shoulders and squeezing my biceps, which are impressively bulging from holding her weight. She is so tiny - I have no trouble keeping her up. It would be so easy to fuck her against this wall. God that would be so fucking hot. But I decide, first, it would be better to go to the bedroom.</p><p>I carry her petite frame to my bedroom and practically throw her onto the bed. She tries to scoot further up, but I grab onto her legs and drag her back towards me. She gasps but her eyes are glinting, dark with want. I pull off her heels, and undo the button of her jeans, and with the help of Sara shimmying, I pull them off. </p><p>“Take off your shirt,” I instruct her, and she pulls it off gracefully, throwing it to the side of the bed. </p><p>She’s now lying on my bed in just her black lace, nude satin bra and panties, propped up on her elbows. I stare at her hungrily as I toe off my own shoes and push my jeans down, stepping out of them. I lower myself onto the bed, over her, and I place my lips against her stomach. I kiss my way up her body, slowly, loving the way I can feel her reactions to my touches. I fold down the cup of her bra when I reach there and pull her nipple into my mouth. I suck and lick and nibble gently, eliciting more moaning and squirming from Sara, who again pulls at my hair.</p><p>I let my fingers replace my lips on her nipples as I continue my way up her body. I graze my mouth over the swell of her breasts, across her collarbone, along her neck and jawline, and capture her lips in mine again. I feel her kisses become a little sloppy and she pulls her lips away from mine, turning her head to the side, still panting. </p><p>“You ok?” I ask surveying her face.</p><p>“Yea,” she nods, her eyes still closed, “Just let me…”</p><p>She presses her palm into my chest and I understand what she wants. I roll onto my back and she throws her leg over my body, to straddle me. She presses her lips into my neck and quickly finds the soft spot that causes me to moan out softly, now entwining my fingers into her dark strands.</p><p>“How do you know to kiss me there?” I ask breathily and I feel her smile into my skin.</p><p>“I noticed that you liked it in the bar,” she tells me, sucking gently in the same spot again. </p><p>I let my hands roam freely over her body, running through her hair, smoothing over her shoulders, down her back, squeezing her ass and thighs. Wherever my hands can reach, I touch. Her lips travel back up to mine again and she presses her body against me, arching her back. She tilts her hips back and forth over me, grinding her panty clad centre onto my very hard cock. I dig my fingers tips into her thighs, pulling her down onto me, while also thrusting slowly upwards, until we are basically dry humping each other.</p><p>Again, she pulls her lips from mine pressing them against my shoulder, but I notice the sloppy, stilted pace. Her hip movements are also stilling, no longer keeping up the unsatiated tempo. I peer down at her, becoming a little concerned, and let my hands ease their grip on her.</p><p> “Are you ok?” I ask again, more forcefully this time.</p><p>“Yea, I’m ok,” she says, “Just… just feeling a little woozy.”</p><p>“We can stop…”</p><p>“No, it’s ok…” she starts but I cup her face in my hands and look into her, slightly unfocused, eyes.</p><p>“Hey,” I say to get her attention properly, “It’s ok. We can stop.”</p><p>She nods and I help her ease off me and onto the bed. She lays down on her back, her eyes closed, right beside me. I turn onto my side so I can look at her and I do notice that she has lost a bit of the color in her face. I trail my fingers along her arm as it stretches out beside me. Without Sara’s kisses to distract me, I soon realise that the room around me is spinning and I feel unsettled too. She groans softly, and not in the way I want to hear her groan. She sits up slowly, moving to the edge of the bed to hunch over herself.</p><p>“Oh God. Why did we drink so much?” she whimpers. I want to laugh but I feel her pain, literally. I shift closer to her, propping myself up behind her. I run my fingers along her back and shoulders comfortingly, and she leans back into my chest.</p><p>“It always seems like a good idea at the time,” I say and she nods, stopping quickly and grimacing, a hand coming up to cradle her head. I place a kiss on the back of her neck and just behind her ear, “I’ll get you some water.”</p><p>I roll off the bed and head downstairs to the kitchen. I reach down two glasses and fill both with water. I down one in a few seconds, before heading back upstairs with the other one. Sara is lying in the fetal position at the edge of the bed, her eyes closed, but they blink open slowly when she hears me close to the bed. She sits up again and I hand her the glass.</p><p>“Thanks,” she says, and she takes a few small sips. </p><p>I open the dresser near the bed and pull out some dark navy-blue sweatpants for me to put on. I grab a fresh, grey t-shirt too and I sit down on the bed beside Sara.</p><p>“Here. You can put this on,” I say as I hand the shirt to her. I know that nothing else is going to happen tonight, between us. And it shouldn’t. She’s not feeling well, and neither am I to be honest, and it wouldn’t be right to go through with anything when we’re both in this state. She looks at me for a few seconds before looking at the shirt, and pulling it on over her head. I can’t help but stare at her body as she stretches her arms up. God she’s so hot. I wish I’d had more time with her while I had her. But this is for the best. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen after tonight, happens. Sara twists her fingers together, seemingly agitated, her eyes down. My brow furrows in concern.</p><p>“Brad, I’m really sorry,” she says with a shake of her head, gaze still averted from mine. </p><p>“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, doll,” I tell her softly. </p><p>“But I am. I start something with you and then I come here and…” she begins and my eyes widen in shock. She feels guilty? Not on my watch. I have noticed that she has a habit of doing this, shouldering blame for things when it’s not her fault. The amount of times I’ve seen her do it in the office is insane, and I keep telling her to cut it out. I hook my finger under her jaw and turn her head towards me. She still doesn’t meet my eyes. </p><p>“Look at me,” I say and her eyes slowly and hesitantly rise to mine, “Stop that. You don’t have anything to apologise for. We had too much to drink, and these things happen. It’s not your fault. Don’t get upset.”</p><p>“Ok,” she whispers, still with a self-effacing expression.</p><p>“I mean it,” I tell her softly and earnestly and she nods, but I arch my eyebrow slightly admonishingly, “So you better stop with the doe eyes.”</p><p>Her lips quirk up into a smile, which I return easily, and she smiles a little wider. “You’re really great Brad, you know that?”</p><p>“I am always telling people that,” I point out and she laughs.</p><p>“What I mean is that you’re really nice,” she says and I give her another cocked eyebrow look.</p><p>“I’m really nice because I didn’t try to have sex with you when you’re feeling ill? You need to higher your standards,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes but gives a shrug. </p><p>God, her lack of self-esteem concerns me sometimes. I am just being decent tonight, doing what any decent person would do. I am not a nice person. And I would have been doing some very bad things to her if we’d continued, and they would have felt so good. I shake my head a little, trying to rid my brain of those thoughts. They’re not helpful because nothing is going to be happening.<br/>
I can’t help but lower my lips to hers, cupping her face in my hand, and she stretches up to meet me. We share a sweet, subdued kiss for a few moments, before I pull away slowly. She tries to follow, her hand laying gently on my thigh, but I place my thumb over her beautifully swollen mouth and hold her back. She gazes up at me through her eyelashes, eyes dark again. She’s making it so difficult to say no, but I can still see her slightly disorientated look, telling me that I have to.</p><p>“You should get some sleep,” I say softly and she nods. </p><p>She flops back onto the bed with her eyes closed, and I’m pretty sure she’s out for it almost immediately. I draw the curtains closed and before I head towards the door, I let my eyes graze over her body one last time. I turn off the light and head back downstairs. I slump onto the couch, pulling the comforter off the back across my body, and clasp my arms behind my head. Now that I’m lying down in silence and in the dark, I can feel my mind swimming. I shut my eyes tightly, hoping that I will fall asleep quickly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A shameless and not very subtle reference to the Community characters in this chapter!! I know the locations and timeline is all out of wack but ah well.... suspend your disbelief.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The day after</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The day after Brad and Sara's drunken night</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I start to come round slowly, waking up gradually. Right away, I notice how bright it is and I throw my arm over my eyes to shield them. My head is pounding and my body feels achy. I stretch out, to try and work out the kinks, and my feet press against something sturdy and unmoving. I try to open my eyes but the blinding light makes my head feel like it’s about to split open. </p><p>“Ugh, fuck,” I groan. </p><p>I must have left the blinds open last night. Ugh, last night. I had so much to drink. I try to think back to what happened. I remember watching the game with the guys and heading out to the bar. I ran into Sara! And I remember sitting with her group of friends for a while. We drank a lot. No wonder I feel so awful. I also reek of alcohol, which makes my stomach turn.</p><p>I peel my eyes open, and it takes multiple attempts before I’m able to successfully look around. I’m in my living room, lying on the couch. The unmoveable thing at my feet is the arm rest. I strain to recall the rest of the night, but everything starts to go fuzzy after the third shot I did with Sara. I don’t even remember getting home, or how I got home. I look down at myself and I’m shirtless, wearing navy-blue sweatpants. I must have gone upstairs and changed at some point, and then came back down, and fell asleep. I haven’t done that in a long time. And when I did fall asleep in the living room, it’s because I’d never made it upstairs in the first place.</p><p>I let out another groan as I make myself sit up. I check the time – 9:37:28am. My shirt is lying on the ground at my feet but I leave it where it is, as I am very warm. My skin feels hot and dry. And my mouth is also very dry. I stumble over to the kitchen and grab the glass already sitting on the counter. I fill it up and gulp it down in one, then I refill and do it again. I grasp my head in my hand. I need an Advil. </p><p>I know there’s some in my bedside drawer so I make my way upstairs and push open the door to my bedroom. After the intense brightness of downstairs, my room is dark and cool, the shades drawn across the window. My eyes try to adjust to the darkness as I cross the room to open the curtains. Light streams into the room and I hear a soft moan on the bed behind me.</p><p>I spin round quickly and my eyes widen in shock as I see Sara’s petite body lying on top of my rumpled bedsheets, her dark hair fanned across the pillow. She is in just a t-shirt – my t-shirt- and panties, her surprisingly long, slender legs are twisted into the sheets. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, as I try to process. She lifts her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight.</p><p>“Sara!” I exclaim, questioningly startled. </p><p>Her eyes snap open and she gapes at me as I gape back, “Brad! Oh my God!” She scrambles upright in the bed, trying to gain some purchase on the sheets to drag one around herself, “Would you turn around or look away or something!”</p><p>I roll my eyes and raise my hands as I turn to face the other way, “Sara, you’re covered up. It’s just your legs.”</p><p>“Brad, I’m in my underwear,” she snaps and I roll my eyes again even though she can’t see me, “Where the hell am I?”</p><p>“In my house. In my bed more specifically,” I tell her, “Can I turn around yet?”</p><p>“Yea.”</p><p>I turn back to face her. She has pulled the sheets around herself and is sitting on her knees, her body angled towards me. I notice that she’s flattened her hair down a little bit, but it’s still sticking up and out in odd places. I see her eyes flit over my bare torso, and then away quickly. </p><p>“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask her, not in an annoyed way. Just curious.</p><p>“I don’t know. I… I don’t remember,” she says, making a face as though she’s thinking back.</p><p>“Me either,” I admit. </p><p>My eyes drift around the room. I note Sara’s clothes and bra discarded on the floor, and my jeans in a pile at the end of the bed along with my shoes. A thought comes into my mind. Sara is here, in my bed, and our clothes are strewn on the ground, and we don’t remember anything from last night… I stare up at her, my eyes wide, and her eyes mirror mine as she seems to come to the same conclusion as me. </p><p>“We didn’t…?” I start and Sara shakes her head.</p><p>“No. No. I don’t think so,” she replies, not very confidently. </p><p>“I don’t think so either,” I say, with almost as much certainty as her, “For one, I was downstairs and you were up here. If we had…”</p><p>“You’d be here too,” she finishes.</p><p>“No. You wouldn’t be,” I correct her, and she gives me a disapproving look, “What? I don’t do the morning after.”</p><p>“You’re a pig, Brad,” she says. I shrug, not feeling the need to defend myself. “Now I’m definitely sure I didn’t sleep with you.”</p><p>“Ha, very funny,” I say but then I become serious again, “But are you sure sure?”</p><p>“Umm… pretty sure,” she says.</p><p>“You don’t feel it?” I ask, trying to be diplomatic and she scrunches her face up at me.</p><p>“Ugh Brad, don’t be gross. I don’t feel it,” she grumbles, pulling the sheets tighter around herself.</p><p>“I mean, you would,” I say pointedly. She makes an indignant noise and rolls her eyes.</p><p>“I just want to check,” I mutter as I walk to the bedside table. I open it up and pull out the pack of condoms that I keep there. I know that no matter how drunk I was, I wouldn’t have sex with anyone without using protection. I pull out the roll and quickly count them. 10. Thank god! </p><p>“There’s two missing,” Sara says, her voice a little high pitched, and I notice she’s counting them from the bed beside me. </p><p>“They weren’t used with you, doll,” I tell her with a wink. </p><p>“Oh. Right,” she says. </p><p>I feel her eyes on me as I roll up the foil packages and put them back in the drawer. More specifically, I feel her eyes taking in my body. I am very aware of my bare chest and stomach, my sweatpants hanging low on my hips. I catch her eye with a glimpse and she looks away quickly, again. She sits back on her heels, still holding the sheets about her body.</p><p>“Good,” she says. </p><p>My head involuntarily snaps round to look at her, and I can’t stop an insulted expression from crossing my face. I don’t know why I feel a little hurt, and more pressingly, upset and disappointed. She’s glad that we didn’t sleep together. I appreciate it wouldn’t have been great if we’d slept together and not remembered it, but is she strongly against even the idea that we could? I mean, I did just catch her checking me out only seconds ago. I’m confused and angry at myself for feeling this way about not even a proper rejection. Her eyes widen and she must have seen the emotions flash across my face.</p><p>“Not good,” she says backtracking, “I mean, not 'good'. You’re great and you look, well…-” she gestures to me, trailing off as color flushes across her face as her eyes glance at my bare chest again and away, “It’s just, we were drunk and we don’t remember anything and we’re friends and that wouldn’t have been ideal…”</p><p>“Yea I agree,” I say quickly, also trying to backtrack on what she’d obviously picked up from my expression, “Not that I wouldn’t… I mean, I would… What I mean is, we’re friends and it’s for the best that we didn’t. Right?”</p><p>“Right,” she says with a quick nod. </p><p>I can feel the tension rising between us as we look at each other. </p><p>“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, palming the back of my head as I try not to stare at Sara, “There’s another bathroom down the hall, with fresh towels and all, if you want to take a shower.”</p><p>“That would be great, if you didn’t mind.”</p><p>I head into my en-suite with one last look at Sara and close the door behind me. I turn on the shower and lean over the sink. Jesus Christ, the tension out there was insane. Sexual tension? It was hard to tell because Sara hardly ever gives anything away – she’s a completely closed book. But she said she thought I was great and although she never finished her sentence it seems like she appreciates my physical body. I mean, she would of course – I work hard on it. My thoughts drift back to when I saw her lying on my bed, her legs on show, only in her panties and one of my t-shirts. That was pretty hot. And she looked so good last night at the bar. I know we didn’t sleep together but I sure as hell know I would have.</p><p>I shake my head to rid myself of any thoughts of having sex with Sara. She’s my friend – the first time we’ve ever actually used that word to describe our relationship- and I don’t do that with friends. Not that I have many to do it with anyway. And I still feel angry at myself for being confused about my feelings. I’m never confused about what I’m feeling, mostly because I try my hardest to not feel in general. I feel like a teenager, obsessing over a girl, and what her words and our shared looks meant. I was past that stage of my life.</p><p>I take a quick shower, feeling slightly more human and not as ill as I did before. My head is still throbbing though, and I remember that I’d planned to take some painkillers before the whole finding Sara in my bed situation. I keep trying to remember back to the later parts of last night but all I’m getting is a blank space. What did happen last night? How did she even end up in my house?</p><p>After toweling off and changing into my most comfortable pair of jeans and a clean dark gray t-shirt, I head to go back downstairs, grabbing the Advil on my way. I pass by the spare bathroom and I hear the shower running. I go back to my room and grab another fresh t-shirt, a toothbrush from the pack under my sink, and another tube of toothpaste. I leave them sitting in a neat pile on the floor in front of the door for Sara. I know that I always feel kind of gross after a night of drinking if I don’t have something clean to wear and if I can’t freshen my mouth. </p><p>Once in the kitchen, I fill up the water glass again and take a sip along with the tablets. I pop two extra tablets out and set them on the counter on the island, ready for Sara when she comes down. I sit down on the nearest stool with my head in my hands, willing for the banging to stop. I try again to wrack my memories for something for last night, and only a few blurry, hard to make out images of a taxi flash through my brain. I must have gotten the taxi with Sara – that’s how we got here. Everything else is still just a black hole. </p><p>I still feel incredibly dehydrated although I’ve finished my third glass of water, and also a little shaky, so I fill up my glass again and drop in a Berocca multivitamin tablet. I watch absently as it fizzes and turns the water orange. I take a sip, smacking my lips at the chalky after taste that it leaves. I hear soft footsteps coming down the stairs and I look round to see Sara appearing in the kitchen. She’s carrying her jacket and heels in one hand, a glass in the other, wearing the t-shirt I’d left for her and her jeans. Her hair is pulled into a loose knot on the top of her head and she is clearly make-up free. She’s still so pretty without it.</p><p>“Hey,” I greet her with a smile, and she smiles weakly back.</p><p>“Hi,” she replies.</p><p>“Those are for you.” I point at the two tablets sitting on the counter, setting down a fresh glass of water for her, “If you’re feeling even half as awful as I am, then I know you need them.”</p><p>“Oh my God, yes I do,” she says grabbing them desperately, as she hops onto a stool. She takes a few hungry gulps before swallowing the tablets.</p><p>“Do you want one of these as well?” I ask gesturing to my multivitamin drink and she nods. I fill the glass she brought down with her and drop in the tablet, handing it back to her as it fizzes.</p><p>“Thank you,” she says appreciatively, taking a tentative sip and making a face.</p><p>“Yea it tastes like shit, but it’ll help,” I tell her and she nods with a grimace, drinking a bit more. </p><p>“Thanks for all of the stuff, upstairs,” she says, “I left the other t-shirt and stuff on your bed. I didn’t know what to do with it.”</p><p>“Yea, of course. No problem,” I reply.</p><p>We stand and sit in an awkward silence, sipping our disgusting flavored water. It is so out of character for us. Normally, we are always talking and bantering with each other, and when there is silence it is comfortable. I worry that, even though nothing happened between us, we were going to be this awkward from now on.</p><p>“Brad,” Sara says and I look over at her from where I’m standing, “Can we please not be awkward about this? Nothing happened. Look, last night we got black out drunk and I was feeling pretty ill. I’m pretty sure that’s why I’m here. You wanted to make sure I was ok, rather than sending me home on my own.”</p><p>I can’t help but grin. I knew I could count on Sara to disperse the tension by starting a discussion about the tension. I raise my hands in agreement and pull out a stool to sit opposite her. “Sure. No awkwardness on this end.”</p><p>“Ok. Great,” Sara sighs, relieved, “Because work would start to really suck if we were being awkward and not talking over something so stupid.”</p><p>“I agree. And we are friends after all,” I point out, “We’ve officially DTRed.”</p><p>She laughs, “We have. And I’d definitely say we are now. We’ve been out drinking together. I’ve been in your house.”</p><p>“You’ve been in my bed,” I add.</p><p>“You’ve seen me with no pants on.”</p><p>“Barely. You’ve seen me with no shirt on.”</p><p>“Undeniably. And the biggest one of all, you’ve seen me with no make-up on during a hangover,” she says.</p><p>“I wasn’t going to mention, out of courtesy. But now that you’ve brought it up, and we’re friends and all, you do look like shit,” I jest.</p><p>“You’re an asshole,” she says but she’s grinning, and I grin with her. This is great. This is why I like her. It’s just so easy.</p><p>“So, do you remember anything from last night?” I question and she furrows her brow.</p><p>“Hardly anything after about like midnight,” she says, “Do you?”</p><p>“No. Nothing at all from later in the night,” I say with a shake of my head.</p><p>There’s another silence as we sip more of the revolting hangover cure, but it’s much easier and more pleasant that the last one. </p><p>“So, this is your house?” Sara asks.</p><p>“Yea. Not what you expected?” I ask. I get a twinge of déjà-vu but I shake it off.</p><p>“Not exactly, but it’s a really nice place,” she says, her eyes wandering admiringly across the rooms.</p><p>“I’ve got good taste.”</p><p>“Can I have a tour?” she asks.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>My house is modern and tastefully decorated – so much so that it could easily be a show home. The whole left side of the ground floor is open plan. The living room - with a large plush L-shaped sofa in neutral gray positioned in front of the wall mounted TV – is adjoined to the kitchen – with white granite counter tops and pale grey cupboard – and there is a dining table and chairs which is situated behind the stairs. The whole area backs out onto a small but well-kept garden, which can be seen through the screen doors.</p><p>I take her to my home gym which is on the other side of the house. </p><p>“This explains your….” she starts, gesturing to my torso, as we stand in the gym.</p><p>“My great body,” I finish and she nods with a small, bashful grin, “Yep. I work hard to look this way.”</p><p>“That’s obvious,” she says as I led her into the next room which is my office.</p><p>Sara moves past the large desk in my office with a monitor, to look at the wall length bookcase that sits behind it. Half of the bookcase is filled with books, the other half is filled with DVDs. I know that DVDs are almost all but obsolete now but I enjoy the nostalgia of owning them. She is practically giddy as she looks through my collections and we discuss the ones we’ve read or seen and the ones we want to consume. I didn’t realise that we had such a similar taste in literature and films but it appears that we do.</p><p>As I lead her upstairs, I point out that she’s seen basically all the room up here except for the small room I use as spare closet space and the spare room – which is always made up purely for aesthetic reasons. Why didn’t I stay in there last night? I was definitely so drunk. Sara still wants to see the rooms though. I don’t know why, but as Sara is looking around I feel, exposed? I’m not used to people being in my personal space, as I normally don’t bring anyone back here. Unless it is for purely physical reasons of course, but even then, they don’t normally stick around long enough to have a look around.</p><p>Once she is satisfied that she’s seen all there is to see, we make our way back downstairs. She stops half-way down to admire a painting on the wall.</p><p>“This is really nice,” she says, “Where did you get it?”</p><p>“I bought it at an art exhibition from a local artist,” I inform her, “He does some really good stuff. I’ve got another one of his paintings in my office.”</p><p>“The other abstract one?” she asks and I nod, “I liked that one too. You go to art galleries and exhibitions?”</p><p>“Yea, occasionally. I like to find new pieces and support local artists.”</p><p>“That is so cool. I’ve never been to an art gallery or opening or anything. I’ve always wanted to go,” she says.</p><p>“Next time I go to one, you should come with me,” I say without thinking and she smiles.</p><p>“I noticed that don’t have any photos around your house. Like, of you or anything,” she says.</p><p>“You think I should have a portrait of myself hanging up?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“That’s not really what I mean,” she snickers.</p><p>“I guess I just don’t really have any photos to put up,” I tell her.</p><p>She doesn’t pry any further and I kind of appreciate it. We head back to the living room and sit on the sofa.</p><p>“There’s a cat on your window-sill,” Sara says pointing towards the kitchen window. I turn my head and I see a familiar calico cat peering in through the glass, his mouth opening in a meow we can’t hear.</p><p>“Oh, that’s Gizmo,” I tell her.</p><p>“It’s your cat?” she asks, eyes wide. I nod. “You have a cat? Called Gizmo? Like from The Gremlins?”</p><p>“Yea, exactly. It’s one of the best Christmas movies,” I say with a grin and she laughs. </p><p>“I think so too. You can let him in if you want,” she tells me.</p><p>“You’re fine with cats?” I ask to confirm and she nods with a bright smile.</p><p>“Oh yea. I love animals.”</p><p>“What a surprise,” I say with a roll of my eyes. Of course Sara is an animal lover. </p><p>I slide open the screen doors and Gizmo trots inside and gives me a squeak of thanks. I take my seat again and he leaps up gracefully into my lap. He butts his head against my chest, demanding that I stroke him so I do. As he rubs his head against me, I can see him eye Sara curiously.</p><p>“I didn’t have you pegged as a cat person,” she says and I shrug.</p><p>“I’m not really. He just started appearing once I moved in and I fed him a couple of time. He was skinny and didn’t seem to belong to anyone else. I asked around and no one took him in, so I did,” I say, scratching under Gizmo’s chin, eliciting delighted purring.</p><p>“Does he like people?” she asks.</p><p>“He loves everyone. Everything that you know that I am, he is the opposite,” I tell her and she lets out a laugh. I glance over at her and she is practically vibrating in her seat, clearly holding back a comment that she wants make about me and a cat. “Go ahead and say what you want to say.”</p><p>“This is so cute,” she squeals, her hands flying to her cheeks, “I actually can’t cope seeing you being affectionate with a cat. It’s so sweet.”</p><p>I roll my eyes but I can’t help but grin, a little embarrassed at that. </p><p>“Oh my God, you are literally so soft,” I tell her, “He’ll be over with you soon, if you’re ok with that.”</p><p>“More than ok with that!”</p><p>I set him on the sofa between us and he looks up at me, unhappy that he’s not getting any more pets. I shoo him away, knowing that he’ll go elsewhere for attention. He slinks over to Sara and immediately climbs onto her lap. She begins to pet him and Gizmo sinks into her chest, purring contentedly as Sara scratches behind his ear. It’s hard to tell who’s enjoying it more.</p><p>“My day has just gotten a little brighter,” Sara coos, her eyes soft and gentle, still on Giz.</p><p>“I wish I could say the same,” I reply, sagging back into the cushions pathetically, my hand coming to my head.</p><p>“Still feeling like shit?” she asks and I grunt in reply, “Same here. We should get something to eat.”</p><p>“What do you have in mind?” </p><p>“There’s a place near my apartment. It does an amazing full breakfast. A perfect hangover cure.”</p><p>“I don’t do fried food,” I tell her.</p><p>“You don’t like it?” she questions.</p><p>“I do. But you don’t look like this if you eat fried food,” I point out gesturing to myself and she rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Oh, come on. You have like, what, 10% body fat-”</p><p>“13%,” I interject.</p><p>“-I think one breakfast wouldn’t do any harm. You’ll still have those abs, I promise,” she says, looking imploringly at me.</p><p>“Ok, fine. You’ve convinced me. But you’re a bad influence,” I say, shaking my finger at her. She claps excitedly and Gizmo, still resting against her chest, meows. </p><p>“Great! Let’s go. I’ll get us a cab,” she says, making to pull out her phone.</p><p>“I can drive us,” I tell her, “You can tell me where to go.”</p><p>Sara does up her heels and I slide on a pair of sneakers and we’re out the door. The drive takes us about 20 minutes with Sara giving me directions, until we arrive at a small café. Inside is pretty cramped, with wooden tables and booths and small windows. It doesn’t look like much but is packed with people. Once we get our food, I understand why. It is amazing. And exactly what I need on a day like today. Both of us practically inhale our food, our conversation on hold. </p><p>We eat more than enough food, and Sara insists on paying. We have a slightly heated debate but I give up. I always thought someone stubborn would be my worst nightmare and that I couldn’t stand them, but I kind of like that Sara doesn’t let me walk all over her and tell her what to do all the time. It’s an interesting concept. </p><p>“You live close to here?” I question as we head back to my car.</p><p>“Yep. About a 10 minute walk away. It’s both a blessing and a curse because I come here far too often,” she tells me.</p><p>“I really can’t blame you,” I say with an understanding nod.</p><p>After a less then 5 minute car journey, Sara instructs me to pull in to the car-park of an apartment building. It looks just like any other, with a red brick exterior and rows and rows of windows.</p><p>“Can I come in?” I ask, “You’ve seen mine. I want to see yours.”</p><p>“Sure,” she says with a grin, “It’s only fair.”</p><p>She leads me into the building, up 3 flights of stairs, and a short way down the corridor. We stop at apartment 303 and she unlocks the door. I step in and right away I can see her kitchen and living room, in an open floor plan from left to right. She drops her keys onto the metallic tray on the small table by the door and I follow her further in.</p><p>“This is my apartment,” Sara says, raising her arms and then letting them drop to her sides.</p><p>It reminds me a little of the apartment I had when I first moved out. “Can I have a tour?”</p><p>“It won’t be much of a tour because it’s pretty small,” she tells me but she begins to take me around the space. </p><p>Where my house is refined and rather elegant, Sara’s place is quite quirky but still stylish. The furnishings, walls and floors are all shades of gray but everything else is full of colour or patterned. The chairs by the table are red, and there are colorful food art prints on the wall by kitchen area. In the living room there are cushions and throws of different colours – purple, yellow, green – and a leaf patterned rug under the coffee table.</p><p>“Down that corridor is the bathroom. Nothing special, just the standard,” she says but I open the door anyway. The small bathroom is gray and modern with powder blue mats and towels, and there are a few product bottles sitting by the sink. </p><p>Back in the living room, Sara gestures to the door beside the TV, her hand coming to rest on the handle, “This is my bedroom.”</p><p>Her bedroom is as colorful and stylish as the rest of the house, with yellow grid patterned bed sheets and a pink shaggy rug on the floor. Alongside the wardrobe and dresser there is a small bookcase filled to the brim with books that don’t seem to be arranged in any particular order. Just like Sara had done in my house, I start looking through her bookshelf and we discuss what she has. She has a lot more young adult novels than I would have thought but she tells me they’re her ‘not so guilty pleasure’. </p><p>On one of the wall there are string lights with photo upon photo clipped to them, of Sara and her friends. I recognize the ones that I met last night and I see photos with Poppy and Jo too. There are many more with people I don’t recognize but Sara is beaming in all of them. </p><p>“This is nice,” I say touching my finger to the collage and she smiles.</p><p>“I like having my friends close,” she tells me, “We should get a photo so I can put it up. Now that we’re officially friends.”</p><p>“Sure thing doll. Maybe another day when we both don’t look so awful,” I point out with a grin and she laughs.</p><p>“You have a point.”</p><p>“It’s a really nice place,” I tell her honestly as we go back to the living room.</p><p>“Thanks. I definitely think I got lucky with it,” she says as I sit on the sofa, “Do you want a coffee?”</p><p>“Yes please.”</p><p>We chat as she goes to the kitchen and starts brewing the coffee. She tells me I can turn on the TV to put on some music, but as I start to flip through the channels I see that Back to the Future has just started showing.</p><p>“Oh! Such a great movie,” I exclaim.</p><p>“Yes. Definitely keep it on,” she tells me.</p><p>Sara returns with the cups of hot coffee and we sit and watch the movie, talking and laughing. Once the end credits start to roll I think it’s probably my cue to leave. I hadn’t meant to stay so long and take up her time – I’d only wanted to see her apartment. I normally like watching movies on my own but I really enjoyed sharing the experience with Sara. </p><p>“I guess I should make like a tree and get the hell out of here,” I say and she laughs, throwing her head back. “This was fun though.”</p><p>“Yea it was. We should do it again some time. Get a list of movies going,” she says and I nod.</p><p>“Definitely! That sounds great doll,” I tell her eagerly as I get to my feet.</p><p>“Just before you leave…” she starts and she runs to her bedroom. </p><p>I stand in confused silence for about 30 seconds before she returns, holding my t-shirt which she hands to me.</p><p>“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” she says, “The one I was wearing last night is definitely more of a going out shirt than the day after kind of shirt.”</p><p>I let a small smirk touch my lips. It had been a very tiny shirt, and I’d really appreciated it on her. “Yea of course. I’d say mine looks better on you than me but I’m not going to lie.”</p><p>“You really know how to make a girl feel good Brad,” she says with a cocked eyebrow, her lips quirking. I shrug and she shoves me by my arm. “Get out of my apartment.”</p><p>“I’m going. I’m going.” I raise my hands with a laugh as I let her push me to the door. “See you on Monday.”</p><p>“See you on Monday.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just another cute chapter. The end at least anyway hahaha. Love a good movie session.<br/>Another Community reference with the apartment number. I couldn't help myself.</p><p>I just want to say thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback and for continuing to read this story. I will keep adding my chapters as long as it's something that people want. I've still got quite a bit that I want to add if yous are happy to stick with me. Yous are the best!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The paint fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brad (kind of) unintentionally creates chaos in the office by starting a paint fight.</p><p>Also, Brad and Sara have a discussion about their relationship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone!! </p><p>I am so so sorry about how long it's taken me to update this story. But ya know, life gets in the way, and you hit writers block, and you have a tonne of half-written chapters with no motivation to finish them, and so many ideas that you can't get them out of your head. All the usual stuff.</p><p>I hope this was worth the wait hahaha. I'm hoping to update more regularly now that I'm kind of back in the swing again. This story has taken on a life of its own and has become an increasing self-indulgent mess with more chapters than I ever thought I would write, that nobody but me probably wants to read. Ah well, I'll upload them anyway.</p><p>I've also been obsessively reading all the Braddavid fics on here which also zapped my motivation for this story as I am 100000% for Braddavid, and am buzzing after David Hornsby's reply on Insta about Braddavid content next season. Although what that means, I am not sure lol.</p><p>Anyway, enough of my ramblings. </p><p>Thank you to everyone who has read so far and for all the lovely comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I take the elevator up to the 5th floor as usual but when the doors slide open I’m almost sure I’ve got the wrong place. There are no desks in sight, only large white tarpaulins spread over the floor of the main office. People are standing around, looking confused, unsure of where to go to start their day. Ian exits his office with a flurry, standing on the raised platform, his arms open wide as he addresses us.</p><p>“As you all know, we’ve been a little stuck recently on a few creative issues. And I’ve been wondering, how do we engage our minds to overcome this obstacle and reach a decision? Then it hit me! A painting party! So, today we’re all going to paint the office to get the creative juices flowing. Breathe some new life into this place. Get us moving again. Everyone is taking part so grab a brush and some paint and get stuck in!” he finishes with a clap of his hands. </p><p>People start muttering but slowly begin to move to grab the supplies that are scattered around the office. I roll my eyes and groan internally. No way am I going to be painting the office. I’m not getting paid to do shit like that. I pay people to do shit like that. But I know that Ian wouldn’t let even me get away with not joining in. Unless I had a good enough reason. I make my way over to him but stand a few steps away as he’s slapping yellow paint on the wall that makes up the front of his office.</p><p>“Hey Brad. What’s up?” he says as I come to a stop, “Join the party!”</p><p>“Ian, I was thinking about one of your creative issues,” I start, ignoring his call to action.</p><p>“Oh yea? What one?” he asks.</p><p>“The shovel. You see, I was thinking, shovel sales have been going down but what if we could revamp it. Release it in a new loot crate?”</p><p>“Poppy was against the loot crate idea from the start,” he reminds me and I nod in understanding.</p><p>“Yea I get that. But that was whenever shovel sales were through the roof. But now, less and less people are buying it. And the real issue here is that Poppy’s great idea isn’t being appreciated. You know it’s the one thing in the game that she created, so it could be hers. If we revamp it into a new loot crate, the hype about the shovel will start all over again,” I say, “I know you want Poppy’s creation to succeed and this is the best way of doing that.”</p><p>“You do have a point,” Ian says thoughtfully.</p><p>“I do. I promise you,” I tell him, “I can start working on it today. Iron out the kinks. And I’ll get back to you with details before you even have to think about it going live.”</p><p>“Yea. That’s a good idea Brad. You start working on that and we’ll discuss it later and see how everything fits together. Good job, man.”</p><p>I nod with a smile, that slowly turns into a smirk once I’m at a distance from Ian. I know that Poppy will be furious once she realizes I’m working on a loot crate for her precious shovel. She would never agree to it. But I don’t need her to agree. I just need her to not find out until after the painting is done so I don’t have to do any of it. I don’t give a shit if the loot box goes live or not. I just needed to appeal to Ian’s need to always be improving the game, always looking for what the players want next, and his soft spot for Poppy.</p><p>A few hours go by and I’m doing very little in my office. It’s been nice because I haven’t been disturbed at all today, and I’ve had my office to myself as David has been out with the rest, painting. I’m feeling very happy that I’ve managed to avoid doing any of it. They’ve been at it all day, painting the walls all sorts of colors. It looks ridiculous but I guess the ‘creatives’ need their outlet. I see Poppy making her way towards my office, so I spin round and try to look busy on my laptop.</p><p>“Hey Brad. Are you not helping with the painting?” </p><p>“Nope. Can’t. I’m working,” I tell her, not taking my eyes off the screen.</p><p>“I know you can’t be working on anything important enough to not take part. It’s a team building exercise. We’re bonding,” she says enthusiastically. Ugh, team building. Bonding with my co-workers. I could vomit.</p><p>“I’ll pass.”</p><p>“Aww come on. It’ll be fun.” She advances towards my desk, bouncing on her toes. I decide to make a calculated move.</p><p>“Poppy, I’m working on the new loot crate. Ian wants it done asap,” I tell her.</p><p>“Loot crate? What loot crate?” she asks suspiciously.</p><p>“You know, the loot crate that we’re putting the shovel in, to resell it. Didn’t Ian tell you about it?”</p><p>“No. No he didn’t,” she says through gritted teeth. </p><p>Her expression is dark and angry. I knew she’d be pissed. But I decided that if I didn’t tell her now, she would drag me out to participate in the pity party outside my door. If I did tell her, there’s a good chance that she would forget about me and her Ian would get into a fight, which would last long enough that I could be gone before they get back to me. And the painting will be done. I had to go with the best odds.</p><p>“Well, he said to me this morning that he wanted me to start working on the numbers for it.”</p><p>“That son of a bitch!”</p><p>“He really didn’t tell you about it?” I ask, with faux dismay. She shakes her head vigorously, her hands clenched at her sides, “Poppy, it may not be my place to say anything, but I think you need to speak to Ian. You need to make yourself heard and demand that he starts taking you seriously. How long are you going to let him get away with walking all over you about stuff like this?”</p><p>“You’re right, Brad. You’re right. I need to go and give him a piece of my mind. Because there’s no way in hell he is releasing my shovel in that fucking loot crate,” she snarls and she stomps out of the room. </p><p>I lean back in my chair, my hands clasped behind my head. I feel pleased with myself. I’m not worried about getting found out, stirring the pot. Ian and Poppy are the king and queen of miscommunication and arguing without a reason. I doubt my name will even come into the conversation. And I honestly, wouldn’t care if it did, as long as I don’t have to paint. </p><p>Moments later, I hear raised voices and I know the show has already started. Once they get going, they really get going. I can’t hear what’s being said but I still smirk to myself. Job well done, Brad. After some more heated yelling, there’s a silence. Then I hear gasping and screaming and heavy footfalls running and cacophony of noise. What the fuck? I push myself out of my chair and go to the door.</p><p>The main office space is in bedlam. There is paint everywhere. People are throwing it at each other, using paint brushes to splatter people, some even using their hands. Poppy and Ian are flinging paint at each other and I grin widely, putting two and two together. Wow, this is even better than what I had initially hoped would happen. </p><p>I lean against the door frame and watch the fighting. Occasionally, a group would stumble close by, their eyes landing on me, and I see their minds turning, ready to strike. But I have spent plenty of time establishing a reputation here at the office, and one looks sends them on their way, and I am left alone.</p><p>It’s not long before a lone figure emerges from the crowd. Sara sidles her way over to me, leaning against the wall. She is covered in paint; blue, yellow, white. There’s even some matted in the bottom right hand-side of her hair. </p><p>“Hey there,” I say with a grin, “That’s a good look.”</p><p>“Thanks. I’m feeling it. I might make this a permanent fixture,” she says touching her painted hair. I laugh. “I’ve noticed you’ve not been around today. You weren’t helping with the painting?”</p><p>“Nah. I’ve been busy,” I tell her.</p><p>“So I’ve heard,” she replies, “Working on the loot crate?”</p><p>“Yep. That’s the one.”</p><p>“That’s funny because I was talking to Ian just this morning and he said he wasn’t going to do a loot crate for the shovel.”</p><p>“He must have changed his mind. You know it doesn’t take much.”</p><p>“That’s very true,” she agrees. There’s a pause, “It was your idea originally for the loot crate, right?”</p><p>“Yea it was,” I reply. I know what she’s getting at and I grin. She misses nothing.</p><p>“It just a crazy coincidence that on the day that the whole office has to paint the walls, Ian suddenly wants to push the crate. Your crate. And it means you have to work in your office all day, and you don’t get to help with the painting.”</p><p>“I know. It’s such a shame. I really wish I’d been able to help out,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm.</p><p>“You’re such a bullshitter,” she grins, shaking her head.</p><p>“And you are too smart for your own good,” I tell her with a smirk.</p><p>“So, we have you to thank for this,” she says nodding to the paint fight still raging on in front of us. </p><p>I give a small, pleased shrug. “I guess, but I don’t think I can take all the credit. The real work was done by Poppy and Ian. I just gave them the push they needed.”</p><p>“You don’t want to take part in what you started?” </p><p>“Definitely not. I’m happy to sit back and watch it all unfold.” </p><p>I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her expression concerns me.</p><p>“Well, I don’t think you really get a choice in the matter, Brad,” she says, her tone ominous. </p><p>I look down and for the first time I notice a pot of powder blue paint in her hands. I twist away from her and start backing up, and she starts advancing.</p><p>“Sara, what are you doing?” I question, eyeing the tin.</p><p>“I just don’t think it’s fair that you’re missing out on all the fun,” she says with a mischievous grin. </p><p>“Sara, don’t even think about it,” I warn her, still backing away from her. I realise too late that she’s pushing me towards the fighting, and literally backing me into a corner. I can feel people’s eyes on us now as they watch her stalk me.</p><p>“Or what Brad? You’re going to fire me?”</p><p>“I might, if you don’t watch it,” I tease, now accepting my fate.</p><p>“I’ll take my chances,” she tells me. </p><p>With my back literally against a wall she dips her hand into the pot and pulls out a dripping handful. She steps right up to me, staring me down. She presses her paint laden palm against my cheek, dragging it over my chin and jaw, and down my neck and over my shirt and sweater. I feel droplets of paint slide down my face, clinging to my skin. I hear some intakes of breath as people watch her, probably wondering how I’m going to react. No one else in the office would have dared come for me, but yet, here she is.</p><p>“Blue has always been your color.” She gives me a cheeky wink. </p><p>“Oh wow. You are in for it,” I say, faux menacingly, taking a step towards her. </p><p>She grins widely at me and dashes away. I take off after her, no longer worried about getting paint on me. That ship has sailed. I’m showered with flecks of colour as I run through the crowd. I quickly catch up with Sara, and I grab her around the middle and haul her back to me. She squeals as I pull her to my chest, wrestling with her to get a hold of the tin she’s still grasping. I hear people cheer and whoop as they watch us, egging us on. </p><p>Sara is putting up a good fight as I keep one arm wrapped around her and try to pour the tin of paint over her with the other. We wrestle to the ground, and I’m on my back with Sara on her back on top of me. I’ve got the tin in my hand and trying to tip it as Sara tries to push it away, but I am stronger than her. She seems to make a calculated decision as she knows she’s going to be defeated, and she helps tip it over but she pushes it to the side so that it covering me as well. We are both drenched in blue paint as it spills over us. We stop struggling and Sara rolls off me to the side.</p><p>“You’re a bitch,” I say with a wide grin.</p><p>“You deserve all you got,” she retorts playfully.</p><p>We get to our feet, still laughing and pushing at each other, and I press my paint-soaked palm against her face to give her a matching hand print to mine. We flick paint at each other, and I’m laughing, properly, fully laughing, for what feels like the first time in a long time.</p><p>Ian and Poppy appear to have made up and they both accuse me of meddling for my own benefit, which I admit to right away. I have nothing to hide and no reason to lie. They both grumble at me but they seem to be in good moods. Poppy still throws paint at me and I retaliate which ignites the fighting again and by the time we come to a stop I am almost completely covered in all colors of paint. </p><p>Ian dismisses everyone, telling us all to go home and get cleaned up, so there is a slow trickle of people exiting the office, all in high spirits. Most people enjoyed today more than they initially thought – myself included. I clean myself up as best as I can in the bathroom- scrubbing my face and hands to wash off the paint. I grin to myself and shake my head as touch the blue hand print on my cheek. I go back to my desk to pack up my stuff to head home, then make my way out of the office. As I do I notice Sara coming out of Ian’s office, her brow furrowed.</p><p>“Hey,” I say, “Going to try and ambush me again?”</p><p>“Nah, I think we’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” she replies with a grin, “Have you seen Ian?”</p><p>“Not since earlier when he told everyone to go home. He’s not in his office?”</p><p>“No, I just checked.”</p><p>“Maybe he already left?” I suggest.</p><p>“You’re kidding me,” Sara says under her breath with a roll of her eyes, “He left me here, that son of a bitch.”</p><p>I raise an eyebrow. “Is everything ok?” </p><p>“You know like when your dad brings you to the supermarket and then accidentally forgets you and leaves you there? Well, Ian has just done that to me,” she tells me and I let out a snort, “He comes to my place at the crack of dawn to make me help him get paint and brushes and stuff for today and he tells me he’ll take me to work and bring me home again but then he just leaves me here.”</p><p>“It’s Ian. What do you expect?” I say and Sara nods in understanding, “I can give you a ride home.”</p><p>“It’s out of your way though,” Sara points out.</p><p>“It is. But it is for Ian too,” I reply.</p><p>“Well, I went out of my way for him when he turned up at my apartment at 6am this morning,” she says, “I can call a Lyft.”</p><p>“No Lyft is going to take you looking like that,” I tell her, nodding to her paint covered clothes, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she says earnestly.</p><p>“Neither of us are getting in my car like this though,” I say and I step forward to grab a few tarpaulins from the pile of spares, “Ideally we’d take our clothes off but I guess these will do.”</p><p>I can’t help but notice a little flush along Sara’s cheeks as she laughs. We make our way down to my car, laughing and poking fun at each other. She helps me lay out the tarps along the front seats as well as across the middle separation, and we get into our respective seats.</p><p>“You have a really great laugh, you know,” she says. I look over at her and she’s smiling at me.</p><p>“Shut up,” I say with a roll of my eyes.</p><p>“I’m serious,” she tells me, twisting in her seat so her whole body is facing me, “When you smile and laugh, like, really smile and laugh, it’s amazing. You should do it more.”</p><p>“Are you saying I don’t smile enough?” I question, amused, with a raised brow.</p><p>“No, I’m not saying that. You’re usually quite full of humour, probably because you’re always entertaining yourself by messing with someone.” I make a face in agreement. “But it’s usually a kind of smirk or a chuckle. You don’t laugh like this too often. It’s really nice.” </p><p>“No one has ever said something like that to me before,” I admit, feeling oddly shy that she complimented me that way. Or that she complimented me at all.</p><p>“It’s true. You kind of scrunch up your nose and you get this little crease. It’s really cute,” she says, and her finger hovers just above the spot at the top of my nose, almost brushing my skin, making it tingle.</p><p>“I’ve definitely never had someone call my nose cute before,” I say.</p><p>“What do you mean?” she questions.</p><p>“Well, I mean, my nose is kind of hard to miss. Plus, I’ve got this scar too.” I touch the small red line across the bridge of my nose.</p><p>“Can I ask what happened?”</p><p>“I fell when I was running a couple of years back. There was bone sticking out, blood was gushing everywhere. I had to drive myself to the emergency room. It was not fun,” I tell her. </p><p>She sucks in air through her teeth and her face scrunches up. “Ooh, that sounds like it was painful.”</p><p>“It was. Not at first, but I think that I was mostly in shock.”</p><p>“They did a good job of fixing you up though,” she comments.</p><p>“I actually had to go to a plastic surgeon because the ER just stitched me back up. He seemed like he wanted to give me a nose job while he was in there. He seemed to think I needed one,” I say and she laughs.</p><p>“Well, I think you’ve got a great nose. I wouldn’t change anything about it,” Sara says as she leans in a little closer. </p><p>The pad of her finger brushes gently along the profile of my nose then softly over my lips and down to my chin. She gazes intently at me and I can’t help but stare back, my eyes drifting down to her mouth and back up to her eyes. She bites her bottom lip. The air between us is electric, my breathing is shallow and silent. Sara leans into me, stopping just short, and I can feel her breath, hot and light on my face. She is looking at me, as if for permission, and I don’t stop her. </p><p>She delicately touches her lips to mine, her fingers resting against my jaw. We kiss very gently for a few seconds before starting to kiss in earnest. Her hand slides around to the back on my neck, her other pressed against my chest to hold herself upright. I let my hand cup her face, which feels hot under my touch, and I lightly lick across her lips, which she parts invitingly. I slip my tongue into her mouth, letting it explore, as she does the same. We’re breathing deeply, not wanting to break apart for even a second, grasping at each other.</p><p>I can hardly think straight as all I can feel, taste and smell is her – although she mostly smells of paint. It’s heady and intoxicating and I can’t help but let myself be overcome by it. She is rubbing circles into the spot beneath my ear with her thumb. Next thing I know, I’ve pulled her into my lap and she’s straddling me in the front seat of my car. I grip her thighs and ass and pull her tightly to me, and she threads her fingers into my hair. My hand slips under her shirt to touch her skin and I fan my thumb across the soft area below her bra. She tugs my head back and presses her lips to my throat. I let out a low exhale as she finds a delicate spot on my neck. </p><p>My eyes close involuntarily as I soak in every second. They flicker open when Sara kisses along my jaw, and I let them drift down to look at her but as they do, I catch the reserved sign in front of my car that says my name with Mythic Quest lettered underneath. This causes me to crash back to reality. We’re in the carpark, at work, where we are colleagues. Not even just colleagues, I am her boss. And she’s young. Maybe not as young as I originally thought but still young. As much as I want to – and I really want to - we shouldn’t be doing this. </p><p>Before I can say anything, Sara presses her lips to mine again but I pull away, turning my head to the side. </p><p>“Sara. Sara, stop. We need to stop,” I say breathlessly, gently pushing her back.</p><p>“You don’t want to do this here? We can go back to yours or mine…” she starts, making eye contact with me, her pupils blown wide, her eyes dark. I’m positive I look the same way.</p><p>“No. Sara. We need to stop,” I tell her shaking my head.</p><p>“What do you mean?” she asks, her brow furrowing.</p><p>“We can’t do this,” I repeat gesturing between us as she sits, still straddling me, “This is wrong.”</p><p>“It doesn’t feel wrong to me. You don’t feel wrong to me,” she says and she shifts in my lap, pressing herself into my erection. My eyebrows quirk as I try not to moan out at the sensation.</p><p>“Sara,” I say almost pleadingly.</p><p>She stares at me for a second before climbing off me and sitting back into the passenger seat. It’s quiet for a few uncomfortable seconds and I keep my gaze straight ahead.</p><p>“Brad, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come on to you like that. I just…” </p><p>“It’s ok. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” I tell her, shaking my head at her apology. I feel her eyes on me so I look at her. She holds my gaze before turning away again, her cheeks flushed.</p><p>“If I’ve misread something and you don’t think about me that way, that’s ok and I’m really sorry. But I don’t understand why it’s wrong,” she questions. </p><p>“Sara, I’m your boss,” I tell her pointedly.</p><p>“No you’re not Brad. I work for Ian, not for you.”</p><p>“Fine. I may not technically be your ‘boss’, but I am your superior.”</p><p>“But I don’t see you that way. And I don’t mean that in like a subordinate or disrespectful way. Obviously I appreciate and understand your authority but it’s never felt that way with us. You’re my friend.”</p><p>“It doesn’t change the fact that there is a power imbalance between us. I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I tell her.</p><p>“You’re hardly taking advantage of me,” she scoffs, “And you went out of your way to not take advantage of me the last time-”</p><p>My head snaps around to stare at her, “The last time?”</p><p>“Yea, the night after the bar,” she says.</p><p>“You… you remember that?” I ask, blinking in shock. Initially I didn’t remember what happened that night about two weeks ago. It had taken a day or so but the memories came back to me. But she said she didn’t remember anything and didn’t give any indication that she had started to remember.</p><p>“Yes. And you do too, obviously. I thought you did but that you just didn’t want to say anything so I didn’t either. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”</p><p>I groan and lean back against the head rest, “I didn’t want to say anything once I remembered because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I was really drunk that night, Sara. And so were you.” I say it as though it’s an explanation.</p><p>“I know,” she says, “But we’re not drunk now.”</p><p>“No, we’re not,” I agree. I slide my hand across my face and through my hair, “But it’s not just about me being in a more senior position.”</p><p>“Then what is it about?”</p><p>“You’re, you know…” I trail off gesturing to her.</p><p>A crease forms between her eyebrows again, “I’m what?”</p><p>“You’re, you know… young,” I finish.</p><p>“Well, yea. I’m younger than you,” she says obviously.</p><p>“But you’re also just young,” I point out and she makes a displeased face at me. </p><p>“I’m not ‘just young’” she says hotly, “I’m a grown adult women and if I wanted to sleep with you I could. And on the list of all the reasons why I wouldn’t have sex with you, your age wouldn’t even make the cut.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t?” I question.</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>“Hmm… I’m curious about this list. How long is it?” I ask with a humorously raised eyebrow, wanting to diffuse the tension between us a little bit.</p><p>“You want a few examples?” she asks, “You’re arrogant. You’re rude. You’re selfish and only think about yourself. You clearly have no conscience. You’re more than happy to step on others to get what you want, even going out of your way to do so.”</p><p>I stare at her with wide, stunned eyes. I’ve actually annoyed her this time. Normally, I say whatever I want - I don’t have a filter or see the use in having one - and Sara takes it in her stride. She doesn’t even just take it in her stride, she usually finds it funny and has some witty or snarky come back. But she looks pissed now and not in a funny way. And the things she’s listing are hitting a little too close to home to be poking fun. I’ve obviously touched a nerve.</p><p>“Wow. Ok. Shit. Don’t hold back,” I say raising my hands placatingly but also feeling a little hurt, “I get it, I’ve offended you.”</p><p>“No shit Brad. Of all the things you could have said, you picked the worst one. I would have been fine if you’d called me ugly, or stupid, or boring-”</p><p>“But you know you’re none of those things,” I interject but she ignores me.</p><p>“-or pretty much anything else for that matter. But you call me young. As if it’s something negative. We spend all this time together and I thought we are friends but the whole time you’ve been thinking of me as though I’m some kid.”</p><p>“I don’t think of you as a kid. You are my friend. I like you a lot and I enjoy spending time with you. You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. And I know that you are an adult but think about it from my perspective. You’re what, 27?”</p><p>“I’m almost 28,” she points out and I cringe.</p><p>“When anyone says something like ‘but I’m almost a year older’ that only makes it sound worse,” I tell her.</p><p>“But I am almost 28,” she says again and I shake my head.</p><p>“Still not helping.” </p><p>She huffs and sits back in her chair with her arms crossed. “Whatever.” </p><p>“So, you’re 27. That makes me, like, 13 years older than you,” I say.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So, that’s a big age gap.”</p><p>“It’s not that big,” she says, “There are loads of people in relationships with big age gaps. There are 12 years between Jay- Z and Beyoncé. There’s 17 between Amal and George Clooney. Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi are 15 years apart. I think there’s 13 years between my uncle and his fiancé.”</p><p>“That’s a lot of examples,” I say, with a slightly amused look.</p><p>“I have more if you want.”</p><p>“I think you’ve made your point,” I say and she shrugs, “Is that what you want? A relationship? I’m sure you are more than aware that I am not the relationship type of person.”</p><p>“I don’t want a relationship,” she tells me.</p><p>“Then what is it? Are you looking for a sugar daddy or something?” I ask.</p><p>“I don’t want your money,” she says, so earnestly and resolutely that it shocks me, “And don’t ever say ‘sugar daddy’ again. It’s gross.”</p><p>I can’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Then I don’t understand Sara. What do you want?”</p><p>“I want you. Isn’t it enough that I am just very attracted to you?” she asks.</p><p>“But you’re young and beautiful. You could have anyone you wanted,” I point out.</p><p>“But not you?” </p><p>I sigh and let my head drop, my chin touching my chest. I really don’t understand why she is so determined. Why is she so interested in me? I have no shortage of confidence in myself and it’s not because I don’t think I’m good enough to sleep with her. I know that I could make her very, very happy in that respect. But things could get messy if we started something like this. Sara and I have become close friends since we started spending more time together and I would hate to lose that. It just doesn’t make sense to risk it for something so trivial as sex.</p><p>“Brad, if you don’t want this, that’s ok. I’m not going to try to convince you. If you don’t think about me that way, that’s ok. I’d only want that if it was something you wanted,” she says gently. </p><p>I look over at her and her expression is soft and… understanding? I resist the urge to tell her I do think about her that way, that it is something I want, but it wouldn’t be helpful if I’m not going to act on it. It’s probably better for us both if she thinks I’m not attracted to her.</p><p>“I just don’t want to lose you as a friend over something like this,” I tell her, feeling vulnerable even admitting that.</p><p>“And you won’t,” she assures me, “If you can get over what we’ve just talked about then we’ll be fine.”</p><p>“And will you be ok? With me?”</p><p>“I think I’ll be able to manage,” she says with an arched eyebrow, humour slipping back into the quirk of her lips. </p><p>“You’re very brave,” I quip back and we share a grin. She lets out a small, yet exaggerated sigh.</p><p>“I guess I’ll just have to go elsewhere for… assistance,” she says as she shifts in her seat and crosses her legs, pressing them together. I feel my resolve slip a little. Oh fuck, she’s still horny. She is so not fair, “I might see if my friend from college would be up for it.”</p><p>I can’t help as my head whips round to look at her, but her eyes are already on me. Sara gives me a disapproving look.</p><p>“Come on now. You can’t act jealous when you’re not going to do anything about it,” she tells me.</p><p>“I’m not jealous. And stop trying to bait me,” I say with a pointed look.</p><p>“Fine. Fine,” she says raising her hands, “I’ll not say another word about it.”</p><p>We sit in silence most of the way to her apartment. It’s not uncomfortable really. It’s just a different atmosphere now. I keep thinking about what she said to me. Not the whole telling me she’s hot for me thing, but the list of negative things about me. Does she really think of me that way? I know that I always make fun of her and I can be a dick a lot of the time but I thought she knew that I was just messing around, and I thought she liked it. I’m sure a lot of people think of me the way she described, but I didn’t think Sara was one of them. I pull up outside her apartment but she doesn’t move.</p><p>“Brad.”</p><p>“Uh huh?”</p><p>“About what I said earlier,” she starts, “The things I was saying. You know I didn’t really mean them, right?” </p><p>I glance over and see that her expression is twisted with guilt. I let out a sigh, feeling uneasy. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.</p><p>“Look, I know that I work hard to come off a certain way in the office, and I know that it rubs a lot of people the wrong way. I don’t really care what they think. But it always seems like you can see through that and I do kind of care what you think. I want you to like me.” </p><p>I stare out the windscreen, not being able to make myself look at her while I speak, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twisting sensation in my chest and stomach. I hate being open like this with people. </p><p>“Brad, I do like you. I like you a lot,” she says, her voice sincere. “I am so sorry. I should never have said those things. I promise I didn’t mean them. I was angry and upset, and I had no right to be. I took the qualities that I like in you and twisted them. That is on me, not you. You are confident and straight-forward. You are determined and driven. You know what you want and you know how to achieve it, and it makes you amazing at your job. I’ve told you plenty of times that you are a good person. No matter how much you try to deny it, you are a good person. I’m glad that I know you and have you as a friend. And I’m angry at myself for ever making you doubt that.”</p><p>My face is flushing with heat, my chest tightening, and I can feel it surge all the way up to my throat. I take a steadying breath before I turn to look at her, my eyebrow cocked, trying to stop my eyes from blinking rapidly.</p><p>“Wow, you really know how to lick up to someone when you need to,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. She smiles at me weakly.</p><p>“I’m not licking up. I’m telling the truth,” she tells me and her expression becomes more serious again, “I really am sorry. I promise I will never speak to you like that ever again.”</p><p>“Ok. That’s good. I don’t think I could handle it if you did,” I reply. I play it off as a joke but it’s not really.</p><p>“I’ve really fucked up haven’t I?” she asks quietly after a few seconds of silence, “You have every right to be upset or angry with me.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid. I’m not upset or angry with you,” I tell her, looking her in the eye, “And if you’ve fucked up then so have I. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Any of those times. That’s my fault.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I kissed you. Both times,” she says sheepishly and I roll my eyes.</p><p>“I am not letting you take all the blame. You know I don’t like it when you do that.” She gives me a small smile, her eyes on her lap. It’s hard to tell which of us is sorrier for all that happened this evening. Probably Sara to be honest. She has some sort of guilt complex.</p><p>“Are you ok?” she asks.</p><p>“Yes Sara. I’m fine. I promise,” I reply, “Are you?”</p><p>“Yea I’m all good.”</p><p>“Are we ok?”</p><p>“Yea we are.”</p><p>“Still friends?”</p><p>“Still friends.”</p><p>We share another smile and I can tell that we will be ok. I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder and she rests a hand on mine. I pull her in to hug her and she wraps her arms tightly around me, squeezing hard. I’m not usually one for hugs but I just feel like I need one from Sara. It’s been a while since I’ve had an argument with someone I care about. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone I care about enough to have an argument with. </p><p>“You better get going. It’ll take a while to get all that paint off,” she points out and I snort.</p><p>“And I thank you for providing me with evening plans.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The paint fight for this chapter was inspired by the Brad fic 'A Game We Can Play Together' by Oddities_Collection, who kindly let me develop on their idea for my own fic. Thanks so much!! And please give their Brad/OC fic a read!!</p><p>(The colour blue is entirely coincidental. I just think Danny Pudi looks hella fine in blue and Mythic Quest delivers on this!!)</p><p>Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feedback/constructive criticism is welcome (but please be nice hahahaha).</p><p>Also, in my first chapter I wrote that the dept heads were on the 6th floor but after rewatching the show I know this isn't right. I couldn't figure out what floor they are actually on so I said 5th? It's not really that important I guess but if anyone knows what floor they're actually on let me know for future chapters!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Messing with Sara</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the aftermath of their conversation, Brad messes with Sara.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Two chapters at once!! What a treat hahaha oj oj. </p><p>Kind of a short one but I liked the idea of Brad messing with Sara. </p><p>Also, I'm bad at naming chapters</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day rolls around faster than usual, maybe because I spent a good portion of my evening last night in the shower scrubbing my skin and hair of paint. Sara is already sitting at her desk, which must have been replaced along with the others during the night by the cleaning crew, and she gives me a small wave as I walk past her to my office, and I return a nod and a smile. I settle in at my desk meaning to do a quick check of my emails before grabbing a cup of coffee but I get pulled in to it, hardly even noticing when David arrives. A knock on my door jolts me out of my focus and I realize that I’ve been at my desk for half an hour. I glance up to see Sara standing just in the doorway holding a coffee in my usual cup.</p><p>“Hey doll,” I greet her, spinning in my chair to face her.</p><p>“Good morning,” she replies, “I noticed that you didn’t get your coffee this morning, so here you go.”</p><p>“Well, thank you,” I say with a grin as she sets the cup on the coaster on my desk.</p><p>“You didn’t bring me a coffee?” David inquires, straining his neck to look over at Sara to see if she was carrying another one.</p><p>“You have your own assistant David,” Sara says raising an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“Yea and you have your own boss,” he retorts.</p><p>“Jo already got him his coffee this morning,” she tells him and David huffs frustratedly.</p><p>“So, you mean no one is getting me a coffee?” he complains, waving his arms around and stamps out of the office, muttering to himself.</p><p>“Someone’s cranky,” I say.</p><p>“Maybe we should go easy on him today,” Sara says and I snort.</p><p>“Speak for yourself.” I turn back to her, “You didn’t have to bring me a coffee, you know.”</p><p>“I know. I just assumed you were busy and couldn’t get out to get it yourself. I don’t mind.”</p><p>The morning flies by as I’m glued to my desk and laptop, and I hardly feel the time pass. It seems like all too soon there’s another knock on my office door and I shoot a cursory glance in that direction, where I see Sara standing again.</p><p>“Hey Brad. It’s coming up to lunch time and I was wondering if you wanted to grab some sushi,” she says chirpily. </p><p>“It’s Wednesday,” I point out.</p><p>“I know. I just felt like it today. It’s on me.”</p><p>I can’t help but cock my eyebrow at her offer, as I’m normally the sushi provider, but I appreciate the sentiment, “Thanks but I’m pretty busy right now. Got lots to do. Maybe tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yea, uh, sure. No problem,” she says and I see her back out of the office in my peripheral vision.</p><p>Again, after what seems like only a few minutes, Sara re-enters my office and set down a plastic tray of sushi in front of me. This makes me look up this time and I gaze at her with an inquisitive expression, and she returns a small, almost sheepish smile.</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d have time to get yourself something to eat,” she explains.</p><p>“Thanks Sara,” I reply.</p><p>“Do you want another coffee?” she asks.</p><p>My curiosity has been piqued now. Why is Sara being so nice to me all of a sudden? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Sara is nice a majority of the time and she does go out of her way to help people a lot, but this is definitely out of the ordinary. I scrutinise her as she stands in front of me, noticing that she is shuffling her feet and twisting her fingers together, looking almost nervous. Then it dawns on me. She still feels bad about last night, about kissing me and the things that she said. </p><p>I almost roll my eyes, making to tell her she’s being stupid and that I already forgave her and that she has nothing to be sorry for. But I stop myself. I did tell her this already. I told her everything was fine. But she didn’t believe me? I meant what I said. Something in me wants to make a point about that, and to have a little fun doing it. I lean back in my chair, letting a smirk tug at my lips.</p><p>“Yea, that would be great. Could you leave it about 20 minutes though? Until after I finish my lunch?” I request.</p><p>She perks up instantly, her smile becoming brighter, “Sure. I’ll be back in 20.”</p><p>True to her word, after 20 minutes Sara returns with a cup of coffee. She asks if I need anything else, and I tell her that I’ve sent a document to the printer and could she pick it up for me. She agrees eagerly and runs off to get it. I do this for the rest of the afternoon, asking Sara to do more and more ridiculously pointless tasks for me. She can’t be getting much - if any -  of her own work done as I keep her pretty occupied. As time goes on, her enthusiasm wanes, but although her expression is more of a glare than anything else she continues to do as I ask. At one stage I even ask if she’ll pick up my dry cleaning this evening and she agrees, taking the collection slip out of my hand. This girl is unbelievable. Will she ever give up?</p><p>The 4pm meeting rolls around and I arrive at the conference room at 16:03:08am. David has some updates from corporate and Ian goes on about a new idea he has to incorporate a new species language into the game. This revelation delays the meeting for about 20 minutes as Ian argues it would be as accepted Tolkien Elvish or Dothraki, and CW agrees that it would introduce a new story telling motif, whereas Poppy says that it is impractical and stupid and David points out that they couldn’t justify paying to bring on a creative linguist on a whim. </p><p>I turn to Sara mid-meeting and lean over to her, “Hey. My tablet is about to run out of battery. Can you grab my charger? I think it’s in my car downstairs.”</p><p>I know it’s in my car downstairs, because that’s where I put it so she had to go the whole way down to the basement car park. She takes my keys, her lips pursed, and makes to leave the room, “Another coffee too please Sara.”</p><p>She gives me a look which can only be described as a scowl, “Sure.”</p><p>“How did you get her to do that?” David asks once Sara is out of the room, “She’d just laugh if I asked her to run errands for me.”</p><p>“We had an argument last night and she said some not nice things to me. We’re fine now but she obviously still feels really bad about it so I’ve been getting her do things for me all day,” I say with a smirk.</p><p>“Ah. That’s why she’s been so busy today,” Ian says with a realizing nod.</p><p>“Brad, that’s so mean,” Poppy says admonishingly.</p><p>“I told her we were fine and that I forgive her, so it’s on her for still feeling guilty about it. I didn’t ask for this. I’m just making a point,” I reply.</p><p>“What did she say to you that was so bad?” Jo questions conspiratorially, leaning in.</p><p>“She said I was arrogant and selfish and rude and that I step on people to get what I want. You know, all the usual stuff,” I tell them, gesturing casually with one hand.</p><p>“Whoa. Sara said that stuff? She must have been really pissed,” Ian says, although he looks a little gleeful.</p><p>“Oh she was,” I confirm.</p><p>“What did you do to her?” Poppy asks, also grinning wildly.</p><p>“I was just being myself I guess,” I say with a shrug, being intentionally vague, and they nod in understanding. </p><p>“You know you’ve got to stop messing with her,” David tells me.</p><p>“What? No. I’m not backing down. She needs to grow a backbone and tell me to fuck off. I think she’s really close too. If you’re lucky you might be there when she finally cracks,” I say. I glance over my shoulder to see Sara heading towards the conference room again. “Don’t say anything to her, alright?”</p><p>They murmur in agreement as the door opens and Sara walks in. She sets the charger and another cup of coffee in front of me before taking her seat again, arms crossed.</p><p>“Thanks doll.” </p><p>She huffs out an acknowledgement, not looking at me. A grin tugs at my lips. She is so pissed at me. It can’t take much more pushing and prodding on my part before she snaps.</p><p>The meeting resumes as normal and I make to write some brief notes on my to-do list but when I try to write with the pen it only scratches the paper. I scribble at the page again but no ink comes out. I glance around the table and see a few pens sitting in the middle of the table near Sara and Ian.</p><p>“Hey Sara, can you pass me one of those pens?” I request, leaning forward slightly and pointing.</p><p>“You know what Bradley-” I let out a small, involuntary gasp at the use of my full name, eyebrows flying up, and I sit back in my chair. Sara turns to face me with an annoyed look on her face, “-No, I won’t. You’ve been making me do stuff for you all day and taking advantage of the fact that I feel bad. From now on you can get your own coffee, and you can pick up your own stuff from the printer, you can get your own stuff from your car, you can pick up your own dry cleaning, you can get your own pen, and you can go fuck yourself.”</p><p>I stare at Sara with wide eyes, mouth open, and my hands closed into fists in front of my chest, stunned. After a second, I start to laugh.</p><p>Sara folds her arms indignantly, “What’s so funny?”</p><p>“It took you long enough,” I snicker, “I was actually starting to feel bad.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Were you actually going to pick up my dry cleaning?”</p><p>“Well, I…” Sara stutters, unsure.</p><p>“You are ridiculous,” I say with a roll of my eyes.</p><p>“You mean you’ve been fucking with me this whole time?” she demands.</p><p>“Obviously.”</p><p>“You’re a dick.”</p><p>“I told you it would be worth it when she finally cracked,” I say turning to the others, a smirk plastered across my face.</p><p>“Yea, you were right,” Ian says grinning.</p><p>“They wanted me to fess up but I knew this would be so much more fun,” I tell Sara.</p><p>“I hate you all,” she mutters sinking back into her chair.</p><p>“Wait, did you call him Bradley?” Jo asks.</p><p>“Yes, because he deserves it,” Sara says glaring at me, although I can see her eyes glinting now, the corner of her lips tugging upwards. </p><p>Sara asked me a while ago about my full name and I told her that I’m not a fan of it, and that only my mom calls me Bradley, and only when I’m in trouble. It seems like it’s caught on with her.</p><p>“Bradley. Bradley Bakshi. I like it. It suits you,” David muses. I shoot him a look and his gaze quickly lowers to the table, already ensuring that my full name will not become a thing around here. </p><p>“It’s ok Sara. We’ve all said much worse to Brad for much less so don’t feel guilty,” Poppy says and Sara gives a quick nod before busying herself with her laptop, her cheeks and collarbone turning pink.</p><p>When David finally calls the meeting adjourned, Sara leaps from her chair and races out of the room without even a glance in my direction. Is she pissed at me? Again? With a roll of my eyes I quickly follow after her. If she notices me behind her she doesn’t stop, so I grab her elbow and pull her back to me.</p><p>“Hey. Where are you running off to?” I ask.</p><p>“Some of us have actual work to do besides messing with people,” she replies, facing me.</p><p>“Are you angry at me again?” </p><p>“No, I’m not angry at you.”</p><p>“Then what’s all this about?” I question, gesturing to her.</p><p>She lets out a sigh, “I’m embarrassed, ok?”</p><p>“Embarrassed about what?”</p><p>“You told them what happened last night?” she asks, her eyes showing the betrayal she is feeling.</p><p>“No, I didn’t. I told them you had some choice words for me but I didn’t tell them why, or anything else that happened,” I tell her.</p><p>“Oh,” she says, her face evening out into a more relaxed expression, “Ok. Thanks. For not saying anything.”</p><p>“Of course I wouldn’t say anything. The fact that you’re hot for me is none of their business,” I tease.</p><p>“Brad!” she exclaims, glancing around us, her cheeks flushing deeply.</p><p>“What? You are though. You have kissed me twice now,” I point out with a smug grin. She punches my bicep and I let out an ‘oof’, massaging my muscles as they throb slightly.</p><p>“Shut up,” she hisses, “And if I remember correctly you seemed to enjoy it both times.”</p><p>“I doubt you’d find any man that wouldn’t,” I say and she rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch upwards, although her face is still burning red.</p><p>“I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I let you mess me around like that,” she says shaking her head.</p><p>“Yea you were being completely ridiculous,” I agree, “Why would you do all that stuff?”</p><p>“I still felt bad about what happened. Admittedly, I feel less so now because you’ve been acting like a dick.”</p><p>“That was exactly the point of what I was doing. I don’t understand why you would still feel bad. I told you everything was fine.”</p><p>“You didn’t get sushi with me today,” she says. </p><p>I scrunch my face in a quizzical look, feeling confused, “So?”</p><p>“When you didn’t want to get sushi today I thought you were still upset with me,” she admits.</p><p>“I told you I was busy,” I point out.</p><p>“I thought you were lying.”</p><p>I heave out a sigh, “Sara, I won’t lie to you about things like that. Can you trust me on that?”</p><p>“Yes, I trust you.”</p><p>“And I’ll trust you to do the same with me,” I continue raising an eyebrow at her.</p><p>“Ok. I’ll be honest with you too,”</p><p>She gives me a small smile which I return. I walk with her to her desk before heading to my own office. I take a step but then spin round on my heel to face her again.</p><p>“If you still wanted to pick up my dry cleaning later I wouldn’t mind.”</p><p>“Fuck off Brad.”</p>
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